


A Different Shade

by Quipstaff



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Codependency, Divine Pulse (Fire Emblem), Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, Racism, Repression, Sad Horny Dream Ghost, Surreal Dream Body Horror and Symbolism, Time Travel, Xenophobia, dream imagery, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22220932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipstaff/pseuds/Quipstaff
Summary: After being offered sanctuary there at the end of the battle at Gronder Field, Dimitri and Dedue move into the monastery and become allies of Byleth and Claude.During the day, the two of them try to settle in despite their numerous issues, the war going on, and the question of who exactly will lead Fodlan once the war is over. At night, Dedue remembers the battle of Gronder Field going differently, and dreams of a Dimitri who claims to have died there. At all times, both Dimitris are making it very difficult for Dedue to repress his feelings for the prince.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	1. Over Gronder

**Author's Note:**

> \- While this fic is very Dedue focused, especially on Dimitri/Dedue, I did want to explore some of the relationships they had with other characters, especially ones that they didn't have supports with in canon or would change significantly due to the route (okay, that's mostly Felix).  
> \- Sometimes I switch to one of the other characters' POVs mostly because I can. Thank you for understanding.  
> \- Which characters aside from Dedue and Dimitri live in this AU are entirely up to my whims, though generally I lean towards "and then they miraculously survived also". This is my second fic where I just need you all to know that Bernadetta slept in and missed Gronder Field. Maybe I should write a fic about her sometime to make up for it?  
> \- I wasn't sure how best to tag for the dreams, it leans a bit dubious at times but they're dreams?  
> \- Finally, I hope I handle the Duscur stuff sensitively.

The others, even as they gathered under his banner, did not believe Dimitri was the same as he used to be. The soldiers they managed to recruit, slowly and secretly under the Empire's nose, would ask those that knew him if the Prince had always been so violent-minded. Was he like _that_ even back at the Academy? They would be reassured that he hadn't been, and perhaps His Highness would return to the soft personality of the boy he used to be once the war was over. 

No one asked Dedue. He was from Duscur. He had returned scarred, still taller and bigger than anyone else and, to minds primed to distrust him, scarier than ever. If they had bothered to ask him, however, they would have got a very different answer. Dedue knew Dimitri better than anyone. That violence had always been there, under the surface. He had been better at hiding before, or perhaps he had not succumbed to it, but it had been a part of him. He felt so deeply for the dead that he wanted to reach out and crush those that caused that killed them. 

That said, even Dedue had been surprised at how far gone the Prince had gotten when they were both 'dead'. Still, now that they gathered forces to take down Edelgard, he knew where his place was: where it always was, at Dimitri's side. 

If Dimitri did not win, he would not become king. He would not be able to fulfill his promises that he owed to Duscur, and everything that Dedue worked for, everything he lived for, all those years would be made pointless. It was far too late to turn back now. He would fight forever if it meant that it had not all been in vain. Dimitri could talk about crushing skulls as much as he wanted, as long as none of them were the skulls of Dedue's people. For this cause, and for what the Prince once did for him, Dedue had become his sword and shield. 

That was his higher calling, his wish, and maybe it would have be easier if the sole motivation for his loyalty was that. If he could maintain a distance otherwise, without emotions making things more complicated. But there was something else there, a personal attachment that had been carefully cultivated over the years like a prized plant. He had devoted himself fully to the Prince, who had been the tether keeping him to the world of the living. 

Dedue tried to put his thoughts aside and focus at the task at hand. 

He served the stew he had made from whatever edibles they could scavenge and hunt along the way. River fish and roots, wild onions and mushrooms that were safe to eat, herbs that overgrew the garden they had once been planted in an abandoned farm. Dimitri didn't tell him his food was delicious anymore. Dedue did not mind. He had known for a long time that it had always been a lie; he had seen Dimitri eat Flayn's cooking on multiple occasions with no complaint. Dimitri had no scale to tell. Once, Dedue had been determined to make something he could eat and call delicious sincerely. Now all that mattered was that the Prince ate his fill so that he would have the strength to keep going. 

After he had finished his meal under Dedue's watchful eye, Dimitri fell back and laid on the soft dirt of their secret army's makeshift camp and stared with one eye through the gaps in trees at the stars above. Dedue wondered if that was truly what he was looking at, or if in his mind's eye he was far off someplace else, a time far gone. 

The Prince was of as few words as Dedue was now, if even less, so it was a surprise when he spoke. "We fight the Empire tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I will have her head."

Dedue didn't have to ask who he meant. "You will."

"Dedue, it is selfish of me, but I have a request." This was different - for a brief moment, Dimitri sounded vulnerable. 

Dedue's eyes widened ever so slightly. "All you need to do is ask."

"If I die before Edelgard, if I get put down like a rabid boar -” (That word choice was absolutely chosen on purpose, Dedue knew.) "- if that happens I will not be able to avenge the dead."

"I will not let you die, Your Highness." Dedue was stern and certain about that. That was a request he had already intended to fulfill. 

But Dimitri knew him as well, and anticipated his thoughts. "That is not my request. Dedue… If I can't kill her with my own hands, will you see her die by yours? I will fight better if I know you will make sure of it."

Dedue was silent a moment. If Dimitri died, that would be it. He would lose all that he had dedicated his life to. Dimitri was Duscur's only hope, as far as Dedue was concerned. If he was doing this for Duscur, and in the event of Dimitri's death he should return there, to continue his work a different way. But it had never just been about Duscur, had it? 

"My axe will have her head, even if I have to fight the entire Empire myself." Dedue meant it.

Dimitri rolled over, turning away from him and curling up on himself, using his cloak as a blanket and his fur as a pillow. "Live to see her dead."

"I will, Your Highness."

Dedue took first watch, his eyes turning away from the camp to spot enemies among the trees, even as his mind was on Dimitri. His mind was often on Dimitri. 

Gronder Field awaited them tomorrow, and they would fight, and he would try to make sure he would not have to keep his promise even if he died himself. Because he would refuse to see Dimitri die. He knew he would do it, if the worst should happen. He was always going to do it. If Dimitri died fighting Edelgard and her people, Dedue would have gone after her even without being asked. He would have cut her in half for taking from him the one that he cared for most in the world.

* * *

The Alliance was there on that field too, the next day. Byleth was there to fight the Empire beside Claude, the Sword of the Creator there to serve the army that now marched under the flag of flames, Byleth's crest, not the flag of the deer. 

Their enemy the Imperial Army was expected; that was why they were having a battle, after all. That there was a third army was a bit more of a surprise but one they had heard word of before, at least. That Dimitri was at its head, miraculously alive, missing an eye, and fully determined to fight was what was the shock. Claude and Byleth agreed that while the Kingdom seemed willing to fight anyone, Empire or not, they would show more restraint. Their orders to their own troops were to fight in self-defense if necessary but otherwise not to engage with the enemies of their enemy. This was a visible relief to the former students from Faerghus. Or at least it was to Ashe and Mercedes. Felix, on the other hand, was far more skeptical.

"He has become the boar I always said he was. None of you wanted to believe me when I told you, but now you know. He's nothing but a beast. You can try to play nice with him, but he won't hold his blade back from killing any of you."

Felix was right, Byleth thought as the battle went on and Dimitri tore through anyone who crossed his path. But was Felix completely right? Was there no way the Prince could be redeemed? Was there really nothing left to him? Byleth had killed many people without thinking about if it was right or wrong, only caring if who they fought were enemies of their father. The Ashen Demon had done so without emotion, taking so many lives. Since becoming a professor, they had grown emotional connections and realized they did have a conscience after all. If Dimitri was a boar and Byleth was a demon, where did the difference lie? Was it truly too late for the Prince, who had always been so kind and polite? Maybe at the bare minimum he could be convinced to calm the fuck down.

The battle was long and hard, and it took a toll on all of them. 

Despite the passion of their leader, the Imperial army wiped the floor with with Dimitri's army. It was ravaged, unrecoverable, lost. Those that remained alive fled, scattering to lick their wounds and keep their heads on their shoulders. But even if they lost, the Kingdom's army made all the difference as they weakened the Imperial position enough for Claude's army to change the course of the battle in their favor. If they hadn't been there, if they hadn't engaged the Empire first, then so many of them would have probably died.

Wincing at the fire licking their feet on the fortified hill in the middle of the field, which had been set aflame, Byleth could see Edelgard and her people fleeing in the distance. Some archers and mages covered her retreat, keeping Claude's Wyvern from going after her. He eventually took to the sky to return to the others instead of pursuing further. At that moment in time, the first time, Byleth just took the victory and did not watch anything beyond that too closely, and soon focused on getting off the hill with Ashe, who had been manning the ballista under his Professor's protection. 

But then a cry rang across the battlefield, deep and loud and harsh and heartbreaking that shook them all to their cores.

Ashe, at Byleth’s side as they finally got away from the flames, went white. "Dedue…"

Very quickly, they met up with the others. Soon Hilda told them the news, confirming what they had heard. The Alliance's officers had all survived, but Dimitri had died trying to chase Edelgard. 

That cry still echoed in Byleth's ears. Dedue. Calm, patient Dedue who may not have been in their class but was so gentle with flowers and Ashe had always spoken about with such kindness. He had seen Dimitri die. He still believed in his Prince. 

Byleth was tired of this war already. They did not want to see the deaths of their former students. It might not work, but there was something that could be done that could save this one. Sothis's power remained, and despite the chaos of the battle, Byleth had not used it that day. They could not go back far enough to save the other army, not without risking their own people's lives, but there was a small chance they might be able to save one last old friend.

Time rewound. 

Once again they were on the hill by the ballista. Ashe was there, needing to get away from the flames but otherwise uninjured. He was the key. The others might question the order and lose valuable time, but not Ashe. He believed in second chances, and he still believed in his home. He was at just the right place at just the right moment with just the right skills to accomplish it. 

Byleth surveyed the Field closer than before. There again were Edelgard and Hubert, retreating as Claude tried to reach them. Byleth ignored them this time, scouring the field for someone else - there. A wounded Dimitri chasing after them, too fast for Dedue to keep up with. And more imperial soldiers blocking their Emperor's retreat, ready to defend her with their lives and their numbers and their spears. 

"Ashe." Byleth pointed the scene out to him. "Save Dimitri."

Ashe looked at his professor with just a moment's surprise before a grim expression crossed his face and he nodded. He took to the ballista again, rather than retreating from the hill like he had done before, and fired shot after shot. 

"I've - I saw him collapse. I don't know if I was good enough, Professor. I'm sorry."

Byleth put a hand on Ashe's shoulder. "No. You tried. It was a long shot, don't blame yourself." 

At least this time Dedue hadn't cried out, they didn't need to hear that awful sound again. There was nothing more to be done. Ashe and Byleth were more scorched by the time they made it down the hill than they had been before. However, Hilda's report had changed. 

"I saw Dimitri collapse, I thought he'd been killed, but Dedue ran up and picked him up. I heard him groaning up a storm."

Byleth felt vindicated. "He survived?" 

"He looked sounded pretty bad, but I think so."

Nearby, Ashe gave a sigh of relief. Byleth noticed Claude eyeing him with suspicion and intervened. "I ordered Ashe to help."

Claude looked at his professor, scratching one of his thin sideburns. "You sure that was a good idea, Teach? He was definitely willing to murder us just as much as Edelgard." 

Byleth considered it a moment. "I don't know. But maybe he could be convinced to side with us now. We could at least try to reach out to him. The old Dimitri might still be in there somewhere."

Claude looked skeptical, but then he turned to Hilda. "How's your wyvern? Still able to fly a bit more?"

* * *

Dimitri was barely conscious, and Dedue tried to support his body the best he could. Whatever was left of their army had gone in all directions, and they did not have a point to regroup to. But the two of them had survived, the Prince thanks to a certain familiar archer Dedue had spotted on the hill by Professor Byleth. He would remember that. Whether or not Dimitri would survive the night was another question. He was wounded and they were in enemy territory without healers and without direction. As Dedue ran, he kept an eye out for medicinal herbs, anything that would keep his prince alive. 

Then he heard the beat of wings coming closer. Dedue stopped, shifting so he had Dimitri draped over one arm, the other pulling out his axe. He would not allow anyone else to hurt His Highness. But it was not the Empire that had come back for them. It was two from the Alliance who landed before him and dismounted. 

"Claude. Hilda." Dedue did not lower his axe. 

"Easy now, Dedue." Claude lowered his relic, Failnaught, and placed it on the ground. He glanced at Hilda and made a head motion for her to do the same. 

"You better be right, Claude," she said, putting her own on the ground too, but shrugged. "I'm so done with fighting today anyway."

Dedue hesitated, but this position wasn't the best to hold Dimitri with, so he hooked the axe on his belt and lifted the Prince once more, to better support him. 

"So, we're good?" said Hilda, who looked far more nervous than Claude. 

"For now," said Dedue. He didn't ask what they wanted. He knew they would tell him soon enough, and he was right.

"Look, that battle was a chaotic mess. Prince Dimitri here got more than a few of our soldiers, but - easy -" Dedue had been about to reach for his axe again. "We're willing to put that aside. As far as I'm concerned, the Empire was trying to pit us against each other."

Hilda sniffed to show her disagreement, and Dedue had to agree. The Prince simply hadn't cared. 

Claude gave her a _don't you start_ glance and cleared his throat. "We're thinking that we have the same enemy. Do you really want to fight us, Dedue?" 

"No. If you wish no harm to His Highness, I have no need." Dedue's opinion on the Alliance was strictly neutral. During the battle, as they avoided engaging him he had done the same.

While Claude was making a show of being calm and friendly, his shoulders visibly relaxed at that. "Right. So, we're formally inviting you and your Prince there to Garreg Mach. You don't have to join our army, but we'll provide you sanctuary. It kind of seems like you need it, and we need all the help we can get. Provided nobody here tries to kill us."

It was a good offer, simple and straightforward, and Dedue understood it was a lot to ask for. "That is not my call to make." He glanced down to the man in his arms. Dimitri was in no state to make the decision himself, unfortunately. He didn’t even seem to be aware of the conversation, barely awake and gasping in pain.

"Here." Hilda reached into her pockets, pulled out a couple of vulneraries, and very cautiously stepped forward, holding them out.

Claude looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You still have some? After _that_ battle?"

"I hate getting hurt! I always bring a lot, just in case."

Dedue, in that moment, made the decision to trust them. "I do not wish to put him down. If you could administer them yourself, you would have my gratitude."

"Oh, um." Hilda made a face. He may have asked too much.

Gently, Claude took the vulneraries from her and approached. Dedue allowed him to treat his patient. Dimitri's eyes fluttered, and instead of waking, he fell asleep. 

"He should be out of danger now."

"Thank you," said Dedue. "I will… try to convince him. When he wakes."

"I guess that's the best we can hope for, huh?" Claude ran a hand through his hair. "You sure you don't want to go now? We have Mercedes, she'd be happy to help him."

Dedue envisioned Dimitri waking up in a strange place and reacting with violence before questions. He shook his head. "We will find somewhere safe, and I will relate your offer. If he agrees, I will take him to the monastery. If he does not, know that I do not consider you to be enemies."

"In other words," said Hilda, "Either you'll fight with us or without, but you're not gonna fight _us_."

Dedue nodded again. "Yes." He paused. He should say something else. "I am grateful to you."

She stretched her arms, relaxing. "That's good enough for me." 

"We tried," agreed Claude. He winked at Dedue. "Glad you didn't die. Come on, Hilda, let's head back to the others." 

"Finally! Wait, hold on -" she reached into her pockets and pulled out another vulnerary and tucked it into Dedue's belt, who allowed her to do so. 

As the two mounted their wyverns and started to fly off, Dedue heard Claude ask, "How many of those do you _have_?" 

Dedue hoisted the Prince up. He was alive. They may have failed, but as long as Dimitri still lived, Dedue had hope. 

There had been that abandoned farm where he had found the herbs for the previous night's dinner, which seemed as though it was a week ago, but it had a little cottage that was still mostly intact. He headed there. 

The place had been ransacked long before, and only the old furniture too big to move remained. But it was empty and safe, and as he explored he found one of the pieces of furniture that hadn't been taken was the master bed. Dedue laid Dimitri out on it, then pulled the whole thing, prince included, towards the bedroom fireplace. The scrape of wood against wood didn't stir Dimitri. Dedue left him there and found some of the other furniture that he tore apart for firewood, and fetched more herbs and some water. He kept the place warm, and made something that could almost be called a broth. He woke Dimitri up briefly to feed him, who fell back asleep soon after, barely registering where he was. 

Dedue sat on the floor by the bed, exhausted. He finally treated his own wounds, though they were shallow. Despite his best efforts, he ended up falling asleep, draped on the end of the bed.

* * *

Dedue dreamed. He dreamed of sitting on his roof outside in the sun in Duscur. Beside him, a fully grown Dimitri kicked his legs as if he were still a child. 

"I'm dead, but I'm alive. I died, but I survived. I do wonder what you would have done, had I been allowed to perish. Would you have kept your word?"

"You're not dead," said Dedue. "Ashe saved you."

"He did not. He only could because the Professor saved me. And the Professor didn't." Blood dripped from Dimitri's mouth and he didn't even try to brush it away. "My ghost lingers in your mind while my soul lives still." 

"You're the one who keeps the ghosts in your head."

Dimitri gave him a look, so bittersweet and sad through that mass of hair. "Not anymore. It's your turn this time, my friend."

* * *

"Dedue."

At the Prince's voice, Dedue woke instantly. The dream was already fading quickly, but what little remained made Dedue confused. What was his mind trying to say, as he slept? 

"Dedue." Firmer this time. 

Dedue pushed himself away from the bed to sit cross-legged on the floor by it.

Dimitri sat on the ratty old thing, awake and pale, but alive. "What happened?" 

Dedue gave his report. They had lost the battle, badly. Their makeshift army was no more. Edelgard had escaped alive. Dimitri had almost died chasing after her. Then he explained about Claude and his offer. 

Dimitri was silent. Dedue, patient, did not prompt him. It was a while before he spoke. 

"What if we snuck into Enbarr and assassinated her?"

It was something Dedue had been considering. Together they might manage it, but they would be unlikely to make it out of the palace alive. If it were just him, he would do it, but the Prince had to survive. On the other hand, if they fought alongside Claude’s forces they might be able to live through the war. Protecting the Prince was the priority, especially with that dream still echoing in his mind. That was not a good argument to make to Dimitri, however. 

"Neither of us blend in. You are too recognizable. I am clearly from Duscur."

"Even if you weren't from Duscur, your height alone lends weight to your point." 

Dedue pressed on, keeping his tone even so he would not betray how desperately he needed Dimitri to accept the route he felt was best. "We would be caught before we could ever reach the Emperor herself. We would die, and she would still live."

Dimitri hissed. "But she has to die."

"The Alliance and the Church are fighting the Empire. They still have their army. We can use them to cut a path through to her."

Dimitri went quiet again, his eye darting around the mental possibilities. Finally he said, "I will not swear my allegiance to them."

This, at least, had already been accounted for. "They are not asking you to. As long as you do not harm their people, they will likely allow you to do what you wish. And if it is no longer a suitable arrangement, we will leave them behind."

Dimitri stood up, weakly. "Fine. So we go to Garreg Mach Monastery once again."

Relief flooded Dedue. He believed the Prince would be far safer there, and that was what mattered. “Yes.”

* * *

"...Claude? Your leadership, sir?" The gatekeeper approached with more nervousness than his usual demeanor. 

Claude interrupted his conversation with Dorothea and Felix. "What's wrong?" 

"There's some people here to see you. They came up to the doors and just _knocked_."

Dorothea raised an eyebrow. "That sounds… polite. Yet you look like you've seen a ghost."

Claude had to agree. "Who are they?"

"I _think_ I recognized them from back in the Academy sir - you know, the Prince and that big strong one he was always with…?" 

Felix stiffened. " _What_?" 

Claude winced. He had maybe on purpose told Hilda not to go around talking about what they had tried to do. "I'll be right there."

Dorothea hesitated, but said, "I think I'll make myself scarce. I don't think His Highness is feeling too kindly towards people from the Empire right now."

Claude gave a wry smile. "We wouldn't let him hurt you, but, uh, maybe for the best." He looked at Felix. "I'm betting I won't be able to convince you to stay behind…?" 

Felix glared at him.

"Didn't think so. Just… try your best not to antagonize him?" 

"No promises."

Claude had to accept that. He doubted even the Professor could keep Felix from doing what he wanted. Claude didn't even remember Felix asking to join their army, he had just turned up during their little reunion with his sword and little explanation. The others outside the Alliance had at least stated their intentions. Felix had just... been there.

Still, Felix kept pace well as they headed down to the gates in front of the marketplace. There, in front of the doors were Dedue and Dimitri, both looking a bit worse for wear. Surprisingly, Marianne and Mercedes were there too, talking to them through the gate. Or rather, Mercedes was making a valiant attempt at conversation while the three others were silent. 

Claude approached, spreading his arms. "Now, if it isn't a couple of old friends. Here for some tea?" 

"Don't waste my time," said Dimitri. His voice was far more of a growl than Claude remembered. 

"Of course," said Claude, nodding and putting a hand on his hip. "Your Royal Highness. Dedue. You're welcome to come in, if you promise to behave."

Behind him, Felix snorted. 

"We have no wish to cause you harm," said Dedue, steadying the Prince with a hand on his shoulder to keep him from bristling. Claude was very glad he was here. "Our enemies are your own."

"As long as you don't get in the way between me and Edelgard's head, I have no reason to go after yours. I will not slaughter your people without cause, and I have none."

Felix looked at Claude. "Do you really expect the boar and his cur not to bite back?" 

"Felix." That was Mercedes, sweet but firm. Her gaze on Felix was steady and even Claude could tell it was a warning.

Felix stepped back. "Fine. I'll keep an eye on them myself."

Claude smiled at Mercedes in appreciation and turned back to their guests and bowed. "Allies, then? I'll let the Professor know. You can stay in your old dormitory rooms - the rest of us are."

"Allies." That was probably the best he was going to get from the Prince.

He nodded to the gatekeeper who lifted the wrought iron grid gates. Dimitri made to walk right on by but Mercedes and a more reluctant Marriane stepped in. 

"You two are clearly still hurt," said Mercedes. Her ability to be both gentle and unable to be argued with was impressive. "We'll take you to the infirmary and heal you right up, isn't that right, Marianne?" 

"R-right."

The two of them led Dimitri and Dedue up the stairs and away. Felix didn't give Claude a moment's pause the minute the others were out of earshot. 

"Are you mad? _He_ certainly is."

"Maybe," said Claude, dropping his smile. "Dedue's reasonable, at least."

"Dedue would kill us all if the boar asked." Felix's eyes were steady. 

"Look, I get it. I know what you say you saw and I gotta say, Gronder really did prove your point." Claude rubbed a temple, feeling a headache coming on. "You could _try_ to actually use his name. Or not call him a boar. Actually, no, that's an order."

"Just when _His Highness_ was finally living up to that nickname." He hadn't been sure if Felix would follow the order, but was relieved he did, even if his tone was passive aggressive. 

Claude gave him a look as a warning. "The Professor thinks Dimitri can be, I don't know, rehabilitated. Me? I saw how they fought. Both of them. I don't want to have to face them in battle again, and now we got them to agree to fight the Empire, not us."

"Still," said Felix, remaining skeptical but at least he was less hostile, "Is it really necessary to let them in the monastery?" 

"Have you ever had a wasp fly into your room? What's worse, knowing exactly where it is or knowing it's there but not _seeing_ it?" 

Claude half-expected Felix to say he should just swat the wasp, but Felix actually took it for the metaphor it was (you never knew with these people). "Out of sight, they're a dangerous variable. At least here we know where they are."

"Exactly," said Claude. "And hey, wouldn't you like to live in a world where the Professor's right?" 

Behind them came a new voice as Lorenz trotted right up to them. "Claude! Is it true you allowed Prince Dimitri into the monastery? After what happened at Gronder Field?" 

Claude sighed. He was going to have to explain his thinking a second time around. He had a feeling that he was going to do that all day.

* * *

Mercedes took care of Dedue, making sure his wounds were healed. She tutted. "You're going to have more scars."

"And more before this is through." Dedue had long since accepted that. 

Marianne, meanwhile, assisted Dimitri. Dedue had expected her to flinch away, but she seemed calmer than she had been in school. Healthier, less wilting. Another surprise was that Dimitri was not nearly as gruff with her than he had been with others. It was a good sign. 

Mercedes chided Dedue. "Is it necessary to be so callous?" 

After being given a clean bill of health, they were released. Mercedes suggested they go to the dining hall and eat something. 

Dimitri ignored her and went to his room. Dedue followed him there up until the point Dimitri closed the door to his old dorm and left him alone in the hall without another word. 

It hurt, but Dedue did what he always did, and let the hurt slide off him. 

He did take the suggestion to go to the dining hall, though. He'd bring His Highness something to eat to his room later. He made his way down as those around him gave a wide berth. When he sat down in the hall with a plate of food, no one sat within five feet of him. It was like his first arrival at the monastery all over again. 

And much like then, he was soon joined by a much smaller boy - no, a man now. This time, however, Ashe was accompanied by Marianne, who looked like she had regrets.

"Dedue, do you mind if we join you?" 

"Not at all."

Ashe took a seat right away but Marianne hesitated. Dedue looked at her. "You may choose to eat somewhere else. But while you are here, I must thank you for helping out His Highness earlier."

"Oh! That was nothing." But she did sit down. 

Ashe leaned forward. "Dedue, I'm so glad you're alive! I'd heard that you disappeared -" 

"Yes, I was injured for quite some time."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Ashe, thank you for saving his highness at Gronder Field. If there is anything at all you need, please let me know."

Ashe went a bit pink under his freckles. "Oh, um, you're welcome."

"You did that, Ashe?" asked Marianne quietly. 

"I… I… did. It was the Professor's idea, though." Ashe looked down at his plate. "I'm glad he survived."

For a moment Dedue remembered watching Imperial soldiers surrounding the Prince and stabbing him with spears. He frowned. No, that was not what happened. They were going to, but Ashe had gotten to most of them. He remembered that too. Why was he remembering two different things? 

He pushed that from his mind. "I would not have been able to reach him in time. Please, name anything."

"Well," said Ashe, smiling sheepishly, "I've always wanted to taste your cooking again."

"Is that all?" asked Dedue, amused. It had been a while since they last spoke, but it was very much like Ashe to request only a little thing like that. 

"Is that all, he says. Marianne, can you believe this? His cooking is divine."

Marianne, who had fallen quiet, jumped a little at her name. "Oh? Is it? I don't think I've ever had it."

"I will be happy to make a meal for you too, if you wish it."

She smiled. "Ashe was right. You're nice."

"See? I told you."

They had a conversation for a while, though Ashe had to carry around eighty percent of it. Dedue found himself smiling, and then a little guilty that he was having a good time when Dimitri was holed up in his room. 

After he went back into the mess line. Leaving, Ashe stopped. "But you just ate!" 

"It's for His Highness."

"Oh, yes, that's right. Say hello to him for me, if you don't mind?" 

Dedue nodded. Soon he was making his way up those stairs again, and knocked on Dimitri's door. "Your Highness."

The door creaked open and then fully open. The prince hadn't changed clothes. He took the plate from Dedue and ate the food, before glancing up at him and pausing.

"You're smiling."

Dedue was surprised. "... I am. I had not realized." 

"What happened?" 

"I had a meal with Marianne and Ashe. He says hello."

Dimitri frowned. "Was he not sided with the Empire?" 

Dedue chose his words carefully. "He was for a time, but he turned on them to join the Professor when his life was spared in battle. He says he is very glad to not be with them anymore."

Dimitri nodded. "And you said that he saved my life at Gronder. Very well."

It wasn't gratitude, but Dedue could be grateful for him. 

"Are there others who turned against the Empire here?" 

Dedue thought back to what Ashe had told him. "Dorothea, Petra, and Linhardt. Lorenz's family was once allied with them but not since the Professor returned."

"It follows that he would side with the Alliance. The commoner… I could see it. The Brigid Princess must be taking the opportunity to break free from the Empire. But Linhardt is a noble is he not?" 

"If I recall, not a particularly devoted one."

"Hm. And Mercedes, Felix and Ashe are here as well. The Professor was always very good at bringing people together."

"Yes."

"Do you think we can trust the people here?" 

Dedue considered this. "I think they are wondering the same thing. But they do not seem hostile."

Dimitri didn't say anything else until he handed Dedue the plate to bring back, with a belatedly remembered 'thank you'.

Perhaps almost dying had quelled his anger somewhat. That had been almost normal.


	2. Claude Goals

Another night, another dream. 

Dimitri lay in Gronder Field and Edelgard stood with his Areadbhar. She pierced him with his own relic, pinning him to the ground. Dedue ran towards them, but Edelgard disappeared with a flash of light.

Dedue knelt on the ground by His Highness's body as he bled out. He clutched the still-warm corpse to him, and kissed his forehead. 

Suddenly Dimitri was clutching at his face and leaning in and his lips were so close, close enough that he should have been able to taste and feel and smell his breath. He couldn’t. Perhaps it was because it was a dream, perhaps it was because Dimitri was not breathing, even as he moved as though he was alive.

Dedue pulled him away by his shoulders. "This is not real. This did not happen."

"Maybe not," said the dream of a prince, "But you did watch me die."

Dedue, becoming more lucid by the moment, shook his head. "This is a dream. You did not die."

"One of those things is the truth. I fell in Gronder. Do you remember how loudly you screamed when you saw?" 

He did; he could almost feel the sensation of the cry ripping through his throat. "This is a dream," he said, firmly. 

Dimitri pulled him down by his scarf. "Then why don't you take advantage of it, Dedue?" 

Again, their lips were so close. It was a dream. He could do as he wished. He could - he could - 

He couldn't. "No. I will wake."

* * *

Dedue woke up, and he remembered that Dimitri was dead, and he wondered why he bothered waking up at all. 

But then, that wasn't true. Dimitri lived. He survived. Why did he ever believe he hadn't? Dedue rubbed his head. This was becoming an issue. Perhaps it was his dreams of Dimitri dying that bled into his waking thoughts. 

He was not sure if that was better or worse than the idea of the other ways he dreamed about Dimitri creeping into his daytime thoughts. He pressed a hand to his lips, aware of the beating of his heart. 

Enough.

Dedue dressed. It was odd. They had all left the monastery in such a hurry that they never brought their things with them. There was nothing useful or valuable that remained, the place having been stripped by thieves, but Dedue never had many valuables anyway, so his room was mostly unchanged if musty. Waking up again in it was pleasant, if surreal. 

He checked on Dimitri, but he did not answer his door. Had he died after all? Heart in his throat, he considered breaking down the door. 

"He left just a few minutes ago."

Dedue turned to face the voice and then looked down to actually see who spoke to him. Lysithea was much shorter than he was, but unlike many, her stance toward him was fearless. From what he heard about her magic, she had every right to be. 

"I see." He was not sure what she wanted as she stared up at him in an accessing sort of way, so he added a polite, "Thank you."

She nodded and walked past him. He realized then that he barely knew the people who had not been in his house. Some he had interacted with more than most, but on a whole he had just the brief acquaintance with them. He went down the steps, pausing for long enough that she did not think he was following her before moving on. 

Where would Dimitri could have gone? Did he wish to be left alone? Perhaps he was tired of Dedue following so closely in his footsteps. 

As he stepped back into the sunlight at the bottom of the stairs, he saw that he was next to the greenhouse. He hesitated. But the entire purpose of bringing the Prince here was so that he could be safe for a while. As long as he was in the monastery, he should be safe, and Dedue could take a moment for himself. He did need to clear his mind of the troubling thoughts that still echoed through it. 

He entered the greenhouse. The keeper was not the same as the one that he remembered. He hovered, wondering if he should introduce himself, when someone entered the building behind him. 

"Dedue, uh, hey!" Claude came up next to him. "I remember, you liked plants, right?" 

"Yes."

Claude turned to the greenhouse keeper. "Listen, this here's Dedue. He knows what he’s doing. I’m sure there’s no harm to letting him do what he wants."

The keeper bowed.

However, before Dedue could do anything he wanted, Claude drew him away. "Listen, can I talk to you for a second?" 

"Of course."

Claude had changed. There was still that impish air to him, but at some point in these five years he had gained an air of authority, and it wasn't due to his new clothes. It was a different kind of leadership than Dimitri had, either before or after the war started, an ease to which he made it seem like his orders would be followed not because he said so but as if it were mutually agreed. 

"It's great you came here, really. Not the greenhouse, I mean, the Monastery. I wasn't sure if you two would take the offer, but I'm glad you did."

"We had little other options." Maybe that was a bad thing to say. "But I am grateful you have offered a safe place for His Highness to stay."

There was an odd look in Claude's eyes. "And you too. It's safe for you."

"Perhaps."

Claude put his hands on his hips. "Do you think we're going to hurt you?" 

Dedue paused. "I meant no offense. But there are few places in Fodlan that I feel truly safe." 

The look in Claude's eyes softened. "Right… you're from Duscur, I remember. I always thought people from Almyra had it bad here, but the way people talk about Duscur…"

At the mention of Almyra, Dedue remembered hearing rumors about Cyril too back at the Academy, for all he was fourteen back then. Looking to pin blame on even a child when things went wrong. "Fodlan is often suspicious of those from other countries. It is something I have grown used to."

"I haven't," said Claude. Dedue couldn't remember if he'd seen him look so serious before. "If anyone gives you any problems for that, come to me or the Professor. We'll make sure they realize their mistake."

"There is no need to trouble yourself."

Claude crossed his arms. "Of course there is. I -" He paused, gave a glance around at the greenhouse keeper who was working nearby, and shook his head. "We can talk about this later. But I want you to know that we'll back you up, alright?" 

Dedue nodded. "I understand. Thank you." He did appreciate it, but it was always difficult to speak about with people he thought would not understand.

* * *

Dimitri was in the cathedral. Hilda wasn't a frequent attendee; she came more often to find Marianne than anything. Now she was looking for Dimitri.

 _Check on him_ , the Professor said, _see if he's not going to lash out_ , the Professor said. Ugh. Why did Claude get Dedue? Dedue was big and seemed a little intimidating at first, but Hilda thought he reminded her a bit of her brother. Overprotective and able to win any fight but really a huge softie. She didn't know him that well but back in the Academy Hilda had pawned off cooking duty to him a lot. He never once complained. 

But no, Claude wanted her to check on Dimitri. That guy had whatever the opposite of a makeover was, even if he had filled out nicely. If this were five years ago and she had been asked to check on the handsome blond Prince who was so polite and so willing to do anything for anyone, Hilda would have loved to get this assignment. 

Now he was scary.

She had to admit though, the Prince near the altar of the cathedral, his dramatic fur and cape with that disheveled, sad look? Quite the aesthetic. It was the kind of thing Ignatz should draw. She should give him a head's up. If he drew from a distance he should be safe. 

Hilda steeled herself and approached the Prince. "Hi!" 

"Go away."

"O-kay!" She turned on her heel started walking away. She had tried. She had honestly tried, and Claude wouldn't be able to judge her and neither could the Professor and she'd done the best she could. 

Wait. There was one thing that nagged at her, though. She sighed, turning around again and marching right back. 

"Alright, I'll definitely leave you alone to sulk or whatever it is you're doing but you could _try_ being a little nicer to me. I helped save your life, you know!" 

Dimitri looked around his shoulder at her, his good eye focusing on her face. She stepped back a little. 

"Dedue said you gave him vulneraries." While still gruff, there was none of the anger his earlier 'go away' had in his voice. 

Dedue wasn't even here and he was helping her out. Nice. "Yeah, I did."

He turned away. "...You have my thanks." 

"You're welcome." There. She had found out he had some semblance of gratitude to them and wasn't going to attack her, at least. She could go now. 

…Except now she felt like she owed Dedue something and that guy could not take a compliment. But she bet she could do him a solid with Dimitri.

"You know…" 

"You're still here," interrupted Dimitri. So rude. 

"Just one last thing, I promise. I just think you should thank the Goddess for Dedue. He was _so_ worried about you, but so gentle and caring and strong. I don't think you would have made it if not for him. So remember to thank him if you haven't already, I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

She held her breath as Dimitri didn't respond right away. Then he slumped a bit. "I know." His voice was softer.

She smiled and turned away to leave him for real this time, but he said something else. 

"If you see him, let him know where I am. I am not asking for his presence if he is busy, but he may be worried.”

She gave his back a mock-salute. "Will do!" 

That didn't go too badly! As she left the Cathedral, she felt she might head to the pond and soak her feet in the nice cool water for a while before the Professor or Claude gave her some other task. 

She giggled a little, though. It seemed like Dimitri had a soft spot for his vassal. She hoped Dedue appreciated what she'd done for him. Honestly. 

She remembered how sometimes people said all sorts of awful things about Dedue hanging around Dimitri all the time. _The Prince deserved a better vassal than some Duscur brute!_ Now she was thinking they all had it backwards.

Maybe Claude was rubbing off on her, but it seemed pretty unfair that people treated Dedue badly just because of where he was from. A rare bit of guilt stirred in her belly. But was she really above that, when it came to people from Almyra? She didn't really like that train of thought. 

* * *

Dedue left the greenhouse, spotting pink pigtails nearby as Hilda splashed her feet around in the pond. Was she allowed to do that? 

He approached, not wanting to scare her. "Hilda." 

She jumped, then leaned back her head to look at him. "Dedue! Give a girl a bit of warning next time." 

He thought he had. "My apologies." 

__Hilda pulled her legs from the pond and stood up, a little water pooling about her feet. "Okay, I got up so I wouldn't have to crane my head up to look at you, but it kind of didn't work."_ _

__"I would be shorter if I could."_ _

__"Was that a joke? Dedue! I'm so proud of you!"_ _

__That could have been very patronizing, but something about Hilda made it come across as sincere. Dedue took it as a compliment, nodding._ _

__"Oh! And I was talking to your Prince in Spooky Armor earlier, he's in the cathedral moping."_ _

__"Is that where he is?" Dedue was grateful, despite the jab, and bowed. "Thank you for informing me."_ _

__"No problem."_ _

__Dedue wanted to go to Dimitri right away, but there was something else first. He gave another bow for good measure. "I owe you more thanks. Thank you for helping His Highness after Gronder Field. I am in your debt."_ _

__She grinned. "Oooh, make me something good sometime and we'll call it even."_ _

__He smiled at that. Did everyone in this army think with their stomachs? "As you wish."_ _

__He left her to settle back down and immediately headed straight for the cathedral. The monument to Fodlan's Goddess had seen better days. He found Dimitri shortly, the few worshippers in there giving him far more space than required._ _

__Dimitri glanced over as Dedue approached, but said nothing._ _

__"I will be here if you require me, Your Highness." Dedue prepared to back away and give him space._ _

__"Wait." Dimitri turned around, gesturing for Dedue to come closer._ _

__Dedue obeyed, until he was standing next to Dimitri, patient with how the Prince seemed reluctant to meet his eyes. "Yes?"_ _

__Dimitri seemed to struggle a moment, before he said, "Hilda thinks that I do not give you enough appreciation."_ _

__He thought back to how many times she had made sure he took her cooking duties and how she always made sure to compliment him for it. It was characteristic of her to be so concerned, although Dedue's cheeks warmed at her being so bold as to tell Dimitri that._ _

__"I would not concern yourself with it, Your Highness."_ _

__"Still. I…" Dimitri paused. "I do appreciate you, Dedue. I do not know how I would ever appreciate you enough."_ _

__"Thank you, Your Highness." Dedue bowed, warmth flooding him, trying his best to keep his emotions under control. To an outsider, it may have looked as if those words had hardly affected him at all. To Dedue, however, it was as if he was trying to keep fire contained in his palms._ _

__Dimitri didn't elaborate, and Dedue took up position nearby, giving him space but well within reach. He counted his breathing, steadying himself, trying to be calm, trying to put space between them emotionally as well._ _

__It was later that he heard Dimitri having a whispered, heated argument with someone who was not there. The Prince was trying, but he was still haunted by the dead. Dedue wondered if he would soon be out for blood once more._ _

__Dimitri eventually went back to his room and Dedue was left adrift. He decided to spend some time training, and went to the training grounds._ _

__Felix was there. Dedue considered leaving, as he had no wish to be called insults at the moment, but when Felix ignored his presence, he got to training._ _

__Axe, lance, gauntlets. He trained with each. It was after he gave a training dummy a strong uppercut that he noticed that he was being watched. It had taken a while, but Felix had stopped ignoring him._ _

__Dedue paused as he re-attached the dummy's head. "Is there something you want?"_ _

__Felix tapped his practice sword on the ground. "Why are you here?"_ _

__"To train, the same as you."_ _

__"That's not what I meant."_ _

__Dedue turned to look at him. Felix's gaze was fierce, as always, after all that time. He remembered back in the Academy, the minute His Highness's former friend had realized how skilled Byleth had been with a sword he had taken the chance to jump ship and switch classes. It was little surprise to find him here, his wartime allegiances much the same._ _

__Dedue did not appreciate his disloyalty but he did not blame him for it. Much like how he disliked the way Felix treated him but there was little to do but accept it._ _

__"The Monastery was the best place for us to go. The former Kingdom is no longer safe for us. His Highness chose to come, so I am here with him."_ _

__"So you continue to follow your master regardless of the fact he's shown his true colors. Fine. Then let me rephrase my question - why is _he_ really here? Why is he not charging toward the Empire full tilt? The - he's hardly one to think about things through rationally right now.” _ _

__The tone was insulting, but there was an echo of truth to his words. "I persuaded him this was the best option."_ _

__Felix raised his eyebrows. "You persuaded him? That doesn't sound like a weapon to me. Weapons don't offer their opinions."_ _

__Dedue thought about it, remembering telling Felix about how he was the Prince's sword and shield, so long ago. "He is… struggling. I wish to follow him, but more than that I wish to see him live. In that case, he occasionally requires gentle guidance."_ _

__Felix frowned, but there was something in his eyebrows that was different. He was not angry, at least. "Perhaps you are not so blindly obedient after all." He shifted his stance and that expression disappeared. "But know this - my sword serves the Professor now. If either of you hurt anyone who lives here, no former loyalty to my home will keep me from striking you down."_ _

__"I understand." The threat was expected. "And if you try to cause any harm to His Highness, I will do the same. But you should know, His Highness has no intention of killing anyone here."_ _

__"Are you certain of that?" Felix lifted his chin. "He's gone rabid. Are you sure that there won't come a day where he won't be able to tell friend from foe?"_ _

__Dedue shook his head. "His Highness is not so far gone."_ _

__"Really? Because it didn't seem like that at Gronder Field."_ _

__There was little Dedue could say to that, except remembering Dimitri speaking to him earlier, far calmer than he had been for a while. "This is not a battlefield."_ _

__"Fine." Felix lifted his practice sword and turned to go. "I've said my piece. Stay out of my way."_ _

__Dedue was left to train. He had once said he would do anything for His Highness. If Dimitri turned on the Monastery, would he really join him for the slaughter?_ _

* * *

__It was the ball again, so many years ago now, and all of them were there in their uniforms. Even the students from the Empire were there. But it was a dream, so things weren't exactly as he remembered. The Monastery wasn't quite the monastery, the dances were strange, Byleth had to take a baby Lorenz away to stop him from crying, and Dimitri was the age he was now, with his shaggy hair and eyepatch._ _

__"Join me for a dance, Dedue?"_ _

__Dedue led, despite not being comfortable with Fodlan's styles of dancing - it didn't seem to matter. Everyone stopped what they were doing and watched them in a silence that Dedue was very aware of. In his dream, the other students became ghosts, but not. Living, but dead. He just knew this._ _

__Dimitri and Dedue waltzed, and Dedue ignored their audience. He wanted to enjoy the moment with Dimitri. The dancing shifted into the more energetic dances of Duscur, speed picking up. Faster and faster they danced until they fell, Dimitri landing on top of Dedue._ _

__The Prince did not get off and leaned in instead. "I know you want me. Should we kill them all and make love on their corpses?"_ _

__"That is not -" Dedue, in the dream, panicked. He didn't want the ghosts to see them. It was very important that the ghosts did not watch._ _

__Dimitri cradled his head and straddled him. "You'll kill them for me, won't you, Dedue? You'll kill Edelgard, and all the others, and then we will finally be alone together in all the world. You can have me then."_ _

__"I…"_ _

__"I died! I died! Dedue, you remember watching me die, do you not? Do you remember kissing my forehead and telling me I could be at peace? I'm not. I'm not at peace until she's dead."_ _

__"Your Highness, please…"_ _

__Dimitri demonstrated his earlier claim and so very tenderly kissed Dedue's forehead. "I died with so much I wished to say. Do you remember?"_ _

__He did. Dimitri fell in battle, hadn't he? Out on the grass of Gronder Field. Dedue knew it was true, knew that he was dead and therefore Dimitri wasn't really there. Dedue clutched at him, but his hands passed through the body, which disappeared in a faint glow._ _

__And then he saw the Professor, expressionless, standing at his feet. "Not this time."_ _

* * *

__There were two sets of memories in his head. Ashe saving Dimitri, Dedue carrying him away, Claude and Hilda turning up. Then there was another set of memories, harder to reach but there, where Dimitri fell, alone, too far for Dedue to reach in time but right in front of his eyes. He remembered his own scream._ _

__It had to be from the dreams. But there was a part of him that felt that was untrue - or rather, backwards. He had the dreams because of the false memories. Had he been so scared to lose Dimitri he envisioned a scenario where he had?_ _

Did he put those other words in Dimitri's mouth as well? ' _I know you want me._ ' He was a product of his subconscious, trying to tempt him into admitting what he refused to acknowledge. He was Dimitri's vassal. One day he may be able to call himself Dimitri's friend. To consider anything else would be wildly inappropriate, not to mention foolish. 

__There was no point to mourning someone who was alive, just as there was no point indulging thoughts of what he yearned for. Dedue got up and headed to the kitchens. Hopefully he was up early enough for several people's breakfasts. Asking the kitchen staff, he was reassured that Ashe, Marianne, and Hilda had not eaten yet. After a moment, he asked after Claude and the Professor as well. Claude hadn't, the Professor had but he was told that the Professor ate more than even Raphael and would be back in soon enough. Dedue asked them a few questions further, about favorite meals and such, and soon had a plan._ _

__He sent polite notes through Cyril, who was eager to assist (and was subsequently asked what he wanted to eat) and got to cooking._ _

__They started trickling in, Claude first, Hilda last. Soon all of his invitees were having breakfast - or perhaps brunch - together and laughing. Dedue was still cooking. He had one last meal to make._ _

__He slipped out of the kitchen when he was done, and headed to Dimitri's room. He'd try the cathedral next, but he was in luck and the door opened._ _

__"I can feed myself, Dedue."_ _

__"Respectfully, Your Highness, not as well as I can."_ _

__Dimitri didn't crack a smile, but he took the plate. "You are in a good mood again."_ _

__Dedue explained a little about what he was doing. "You could join them if you wished, Your Highness."_ _

__Dimitri looked down. "No. I am not enjoyable company." Before Dedue could protest, he asked, "Have you fed yourself?"_ _

__"Not yet."_ _

__"Do so. I will order you to if need be."_ _

__"Yes, Your Highness."_ _

__He went back to the dining hall and threw together something light. The group insisted he join them, even though many of them had finished their meals._ _

__After Dedue received a round of compliments from everyone, Ashe asked, "Where did you go? We wanted your company earlier."_ _

__"I was bringing something for His Highness to eat."_ _

__Hilda, who had arrived last and was still eating, delicately swallowed the potato she was chewing and said, "I'm guessing he doesn't want to join us. He didn't seem like he wanted to talk to anyone."_ _

__Ashe looked down at the table. "Maybe if those of us from the Kingdom had rallied to his side after the fall of Garreg Mach…"_ _

__"You can't change the past," said Claude._ _

__For a moment, Dedue saw the Professor, sitting next to Claude, wince visibly._ _

__Claude wasn't done. "It's more important to think about the future, and how we can help _now_. Maybe we'll try to bring the princeling out of his shell." _ _

__Marriane, who had been quiet the entire time even before this subject matter, aside from telling Dedue that she liked the dish, spoke up. "I think it started before the war, anyway. He's been carrying a… a… _burden_ for a long time. I know what that's like. Instead of trying to, um, make him more sociable, I think it's better to try to… show him that his life is valuable and worth living."_ _

__Dedue understood why Dimitri had been less gruff towards Marianne. He saw himself in her. If he could be kind to someone he related to, he might be able to learn to be kind to himself._ _

__They kept talking for a while, and though Dedue didn't add very much to the conversation himself, it solidified his belief that this would be good for Dimitri. He was glad he came._ _

__What he was unaware of was that Dimitri was of the opinion that this was what was best for Dedue._ _

* * *

__The voices of the dead clamored for attention, though much less than before Gronder. No, before that, since Dedue had returned. But Gronder had been another turning point. Dimitri had come so close to failing that perhaps they were reluctant to rush him again. Or perhaps he was regaining his mind again. It did seem to be clearer to think, but all that seemed to do was make him more aware of what a monster he was._ _

__The people at Garreg Mach avoided him, giving him avid room as their eyes slid off him. They were right to do so. He was nothing but a killer in the shell of a man. He did not think he should be there, surrounded by people who hoped for peace._ _

__But he remained because it appeased Dedue. His friend had changed so quickly upon reentering the monastery. Could he see it? Did he know that it was as if a parched plant had once again been given water? Dedue was talking to people again. He was not solely focused on the war effort, he was not wasting all his time on Dimitri anymore. In such a short time, Dedue had been smiling again._ _

__Dimitri should be doing everything he could to find and kill Edelgard, not wait for Claude and the Professor to decide how to proceed. He was being selfish, to linger there in those once-hallowed and now hollowed walls, simply because seeing Dedue come to life made him almost feel like a person once more._ _

__He found himself at the altar, wondering if even the Goddess had forsaken him. Wishing that she had. But he hoped, not daring to pray, that if the Goddess was truly real, even though Dedue was not one of Fodlan, she would protect him here in her holy place._ _

__"Dimitri, you're looking appropriately dramatic."_ _

__Dimitri didn't turn around to look. He knew who it was. Only he would treat him so irreverently. "Claude."_ _

__Claude apparently took the lack of an immediate rebuff an invitation to approach, circling around so he was standing in front of Dimitri. "We missed you at breakfast."_ _

__"No you did not. You were spared my presence."_ _

__"Ouch." Claude rubbed the back of his head. "You could try sparing yourself your own punches."_ _

__Dimitri leveled his gaze at him. "What do you want?"_ _

__"I was going to invite you to the war council tomorrow. That's why you're here, isn't it? It's obviously not to socialize."_ _

__"Fine. I will attend."_ _

__Claude didn't leave. Something in his eyes changed, that flippant attitude taking a backseat for a moment. "Before that, there's something we should talk about."_ _

__Dimitri waited for him to get to the point, not responding._ _

__"... Right. Well, the thing is… After this war is done, Fodlan is going to look different. There might not be an Empire anymore. If we win, we might have to split it up between Faerghus and the Alliance. Or… we could unify. And before you say anything, I'm not looking to take the top job."_ _

__These were things Dimitri should be thinking of, but hadn't wanted to. At least, not the way Claude was. What he truly wanted was to kill Edelgard and beyond that he could die for all he cared._ _

__"Divide it as you see fit, or choose someone else as ruler of Fodlan. I am not fit to wear a crown."_ _

__"...Do you hear what you're saying? Didn't you used to want nothing more than to be king and rule Faerghus? You're really going to abandon your duty?"_ _

__"My duty is to the dead."_ _

__"No, your duty is to your subjects." There was frustration in Claude's voice. "Isn't there _anything_ you want to accomplish?" _ _

__"Yes. The death of Edelgard. Tell me, Claude." Dimitri glared at him, temper boiling under the surface. "What is it that _you_ hope to accomplish?" _ _

__They stared at each other for a long moment before Claude stretched, closing his eyes. "I want a world without outsiders. I want open and free borders, a Fodlan that doesn't reject those it doesn't even try to understand. Where people like Cyril aren't put under suspicion just because of where they were born -"_ _

__"Or judged harshly for a crime their people didn't commit." Dimitri liked the vision that Claude had, and he had underestimated the man's passion. Without realizing it, he had calmed down._ _

__"Exactly," said Claude. "You mean Duscur, right? What happened to Duscur was… horrific. I want to see a Faerghus, a Fodlan that made up for the crimes they did to it."_ _

__It was extremely brave for Claude to say such a thing to the sole survivor of the Tragedy of Duscur, but his words were exactly what he needed to say to get Dimitri to approve of his ideas. He was intrigued despite himself._ _

__"...Keep speaking."_ _

* * *

__Regularly, Byleth thought it was important to run around the monastery checking in on everyone. Sometimes literally running. It helped them keep up with their training. Not to mention that there was an increasing number of people about and trying to hit everyone took most of the day._ _

__They found Claude on the bridge in front of the cathedral, looking thoughtful._ _

__"Hey, Teach! I was wondering where you were. I had the most fascinating conversation with Dimitri earlier that I wanted to talk to you about."_ _

__Byleth tilted their head. "Fascinating in a good or bad way?"_ _

__"Not sure," said Claude, scratching his head. "He asked me a lot of questions and pressed me on what I envision for the future of Fodlan but… it was unnerving."_ _

__"How so?"_ _

__Claude looked away for a moment, considering. "I think it was because he didn't say a word about what _he_ wants, other than he doesn't want to be King. Like he doesn't see the future with him in it. Even the parts about Faerghus were him asking how I thought _I'd_ handle it."_ _

__A bit like talking to Lysithea, maybe? That wasn't a good thought. "Does he not expect to survive the war?"_ _

__Claude frowned. "Or our princely guest has a death wish."_ _

__After all the effort they had put in to make sure Dimitri survived. So, not like Lysithea. More like Marianne. Byleth tapped a foot, thinking._ _

__"He asked me about how I'd handle Duscur like three times."_ _

__Byleth straightened. "That makes sense."_ _

__"Right, except it was like… I kept expecting him to…" Claude struggled for a moment before snapping his fingers. "You know, every time we go to battle, Raphael asks me to take care of his sister if anything happens to him. It was like that, except with a whole country, and he didn't come right out and _say_ it."_ _

__Claude sighed, scuffing his boot on the wall of the bridge. "Either he wants to die or he doesn't expect to survive, but the end result is the same. He wants me to fulfill his ambitions."_ _

__"But that means a part of him still cares."_ _

__That made Claude tap his face in that _'I have a plan'_ way. "Which means he _hasn't_ gone off the deep end completely. We can use that. Maybe you were right, Teach, and we can bring him back from the brink. But I don't know if I'm the best person to do that, not if he's using me as some kind of living will."_ _

__"And you're busy."_ _

__"I _am_ kind of running an army here, and there's someone I'm meeting tomorrow for the next plan. I can't spend all my time coaxing the Prince to be human."_ _

__Byleth clenched their fist. "Team project."_ _

__Claude laughed. "That's the spirit, Teach. And I know just who you should recruit first…"_ _

* * *

__Gardening again was calming. It had been something that Dedue had kept up with even after the war started, and when he was healing from injuries he at least had some potted plants. But nothing beat the greenhouse at Garreg Mach Monastery._ _

__It was late and dark. He was working from a lamp, but he was mostly there to try to relax, not do anything complicated. Checking that everything was growing healthily and no pests had gotten in._ _

__He heard the footsteps before he saw them, but a quick glance confirmed who it was._ _

__"Hello, Professor."_ _

__Byleth nodded. "You're up late."_ _

__"As are you."_ _

__The two of them fell into silence for a couple of minutes. Dedue was never quite sure what to say to them (he had already thanked Byleth for helping the Prince when he invited them to the meal he made) and the Professor was not one to carry a conservation._ _

__Eventually he stood and turned around. "Is there something the matter?"_ _

__"It's nice to watch you work. You're gentle."_ _

__"Thank you."_ _

__"..."_ _

__"..."_ _

__Byleth cleared their throat. "I'm worried about Dimitri."_ _

__"Yes, I know that feeling well."_ _

__They stood facing each other, an awkward silence growing._ _

__"I'm worried about you too," said the Professor. "Can't sleep?"_ _

__Dedue frowned. The Greenhouse was empty; there was no one to overhear. Perhaps it would be fine to tell a little bit of the truth. "I have been having strange dreams. I have no wish to return to them."_ _

__"Nightmares?"_ _

__That was a good question. They were disturbing, but none of them woke him up in a cold sweat with heart palpitations the way his nightmares often did. "I do not think so. They are… difficult to explain."_ _

__"Would it help to try?"_ _

__"Perhaps. They do sometimes involve you."_ _

__Byleth looked surprised. "Me?"_ _

__"I… my memory of the dreams is foggy. But for example, I remember from last night's dream… you told me it was not the right time. No… it was 'not this time'."_ _

__"Not this time for what?"_ _

__"In the dreams, Dimitri tells me he fell at Gronder Field. That he died, and that I saw him die."_ _

__Byleth's eyes went wide. "Did you?"_ _

__Dedue's brow twitched with confusion. "That is an odd question."_ _

__"Maybe."_ _

__Something about Byleth's reaction seemed off. It was not sympathy or dismissal, as one might expect when talking of a dream._ _

__"I… I remember that he chased after Edelgard, but was surrounded by soldiers. He fell and was pierced with all their spears. I ran forward and held his body."_ _

__"Did you cry out when you saw him fall?"_ _

__Another odd question. But now it was Dedue's turn to be surprised. He had felt awkward leaving in a couple of details, and had purposely left them out. That was one of them. "Yes… until my voice was raw."_ _

__"You dream about this?"_ _

__"I do." Should he confess? Maybe the Professor could help. "But I also see it in my mind's eye when I am awake."_ _

__He had never seen the Professor look so perturbed. "You _remember_."_ _

__He bowed his head. "I know it is the stuff of madness…"_ _

__"No. You remember something that happened."_ _

__Looking up at the Professor, he could tell they were serious. "Please explain."_ _

__Byleth shifted, looking ashamed. "It's a secret. Don't spread word around."_ _

__"I won't, if it will not cause harm to others."_ _

__Byleth nodded, accepting that. "I was granted an… ability. A power. I don't understand it fully. But I can turn back the hands of time and redo the past. I cannot turn it back very far, and I have to use the power very sparingly."_ _

__It was absurd. A power like that, existing in the world? But if what the Professor said was true… if time had been rewound… What had Dimitri said in one of the dreams? Something like _'Ashe could save me because the Professor did.'_ It was odd how clearly he recalled it. _ _

__"His Highness died, and you… went back."_ _

__Byleth nodded. "Moments before. I asked Ashe to save Dimitri."_ _

__"He did not die _this time_." He did not want to believe it, he did not want to accept Dimitri had died, but he did not think the Professor was lying. It felt true. _ _

__"I think you remember what happened before I went back."_ _

__He had kissed Dimitri on the forehead and told him he could have peace. Rage had filled his heart. He would fulfill the promise he had made to Dimitri, and he would avenge him. And then - and then there had been a strange light._ _

__Then he had watched Dimitri survive, just barely. Events proceeded differently. It fit. Ashe had said saving the Prince had been the Professor's idea, confirming that claim._ _

__But Dimitri had also died. Dedue had failed to protect him. He remembered it so clearly now. If Byleth was telling the truth, then his memories were not false, they had just been replaced. He really had watched Dimitri fall._ _

__"Dedue… you're crying."_ _

__He touched his cheeks and felt that they were wet. He could see them blurring his vision. He let them fall. "Yes."_ _

__Then, to his surprise, Byleth wrapped their arms around him and hugged him (as best they could, with the height difference). He couldn't remember the last time someone hugged him. He didn't know what to do, but it did give him some comfort._ _

__"I can't always save them," said Byleth in a murmur, "Sometimes I try, but I fail again. Jeralt…"_ _

__Oh. Yes, of course. That was right. He had not been there for that, but he had heard what had happened when their father died. "I am sorry."_ _

__"I am glad it worked for Dimitri. I am glad he is alive." Byleth let him go. "I want to keep him that way. Will you help me, Dedue?"_ _

__"That is what I have been trying to do."_ _

__Byleth gave a small, rare smile._ _

* * *

__He went to bed shortly after that. He did not dream. But when he woke, Dimitri was gone._ _


	3. The Write Thing

Dedue searched Dimitri's room after the door opened at a touch. His things were gone, but that didn't say much: neither of them had arrived with much of anything. He checked the cathedral next. Then the training grounds. Then perhaps the Dining Hall? Soon he was combing over the place, frantic. Frantic for him, which hardly seemed frantic to an outside observer. His mind, however, was in unusual chaos. 

Had Dimitri really died, and Dedue had only imagined he had survived? Dedue was not sure if he could trust his memory. Both versions of Gronder Field were so solidified in his mind now that it was difficult to pull them apart. But no, his memories of the version of time where Dimitri died ended abruptly, while the one where he survived continued beyond until the present. That matched what the Professor had said. 

Dimitri was alive, and so he had to keep looking for him. 

While he was leaving the old Blue Lions classroom - he had thought maybe the Prince was feeling nostalgic - he ran into Claude. He could tell from one look at Claude's face that he knew something, nor that Dedue was mistaken to worry Dimitri was missing. 

"Where is he?" He could not keep the threat from his voice.

"I don't know. He left me a letter. Well, more like a message. But he left me a pair of actual letters too. One's for you. I went looking for you as soon as I found them, I promise." 

Claude held out a piece of paper. Dedue took it and broke the seal. He recognized Dimitri's writing immediately, though it was cruder than it once was.

> _Dedue,_
> 
> _I can no longer waste time. I must avenge the dead. I am leaving to find and kill that dastard of an Emperor. If I was a man of more courage, I would have told you myself. But I know you would try to come with me and I could not ask this of you._
> 
> _You are safe at the monastery with Claude and the Professor. Claude will see a free Duscur should anything happen to me, I know it. So live, Dedue. I could not bear if you died trying to save my life, when I have failed at all I set out to do. Live, and at least I will have saved you._
> 
> _Stay at the monastery. That is an order._
> 
> _Your devoted friend,  
>  Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd_

Dedue's hands shook. How dare he. How could he? Why would he think that Dedue could ever be able to live with this?

He looked up at Claude. "I need to go."

"He told me to keep you here."

Dedue's hand went to his axe. 

Claude immediately backed off, holding up his hands. "I didn't say I would! I thought he knew better than that. _I_ definitely know better than that. I'm not going to force you to stay."

"Very well. Thank you for your hospitality. I will be going now."

"If you want, we can send out a search party - we have flyers that can go faster than you -" 

"But it would take time to collect volunteers. Do as you wish. _I_ am leaving now."

As Dedue turned on his heel and marched in the direction of the gate, Claude was left scratching his head. 

"... Right."

* * *

The message from Dimitri had been short. He was leaving, Dedue was to stay, he hoped Claude fulfilled all they had talked of. The letters to the others looked longer. Claude guessed that they were left to him so Dedue, an early riser, wouldn't have gone after him immediately. The other letter, though, that recipient was a surprise. 

Claude went to the training grounds to find him. He was there, as expected, which was good. 

"Felix!" 

Felix did not halt in his attack against the training dummy. "What?" 

"Can you pause for a bit? This is important."

Felix stopped with a huff, wiping sweat off his brow. "Did the b- did _he_ murder Linhardt in a fit of rage or something equally foolish?" 

Claude held out the letter. Felix grabbed it from his hands and broke the seal. 

There were ways of redoing a wax seal. Claude knew them. Especially since Dimitri hadn't stamped them, it would have been easy to make them look unopened. But Claude did not need to; he had decided to forgo his curiosity for once and respect the boundaries of three men who were entirely capable of murdering him. 

As he read, Felix's face shifted quickly to that disdain he was so good at to anger. Finally he crumpled the letter and almost made to throw it away before he ended up pocketing it. Maybe he knew Claude would have picked it up himself.

"That idiot is going to get himself killed."

"Let me guess, he's going after a certain Emperor on his own." 

Felix's mouth twitched. "As if he could even make it anywhere close to her. And of all the absurd requests - he told me to look after _Dedue_. He said there was no one else strong enough."

Claude pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you wanted to follow his wishes at all, you're going to have to run. Dedue just left after him."

Felix bristled. "You let him _go_?" 

Claude gestured to the door in as sarcastically melodramatic a fashion as he could muster. "Do _you_ want to keep Dedue from his prince? Because _I_ happen to like my head being attached to my shoulders."

"...Point made." Say what you wanted about Felix, he was not an idiot. 

"Great. Glad to hear it." Claude sighed, easing up. It wasn't Felix's fault. "Wasn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes, but… something bothers me. He said he'd ordered his cur to stay. He said - " He stopped. Felix's hand twitched, still holding the practice blade. He shifted from foot to foot. Finally he ran a hand down his face. "Dastard. He knew exactly what to say."

Claude was dying to know what had been in that letter. "Are you going after them?" 

"Will you stop me?" Felix gripped his training sword tighter, knuckles going white.

Claude felt his life flash before his eyes for the second time that day. What was it about the Kingdom that made them all instantly assume that they should fight? 

"No. I'm going to help you. Not personally, Dimitri has terrible timing - but you know. You'll get help."

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

Claude grinned. "You haven't been practicing your flying, have you?"

* * *

Seteth would not approve. That was why Seteth did not know. 

Flayn had not had a chance to speak to Dimitri since his return, but she had greeted Dedue a couple of times in the Greenhouse and the dining hall, and she hoped he could continue to teach her how to cook. Maybe she could cook something nice for the Prince as well. She desperately missed those too few months when she had finally managed to persuade her brother to let her join the Academy, and she had begun to befriend the other students, even the ones outside her class. She had been so very pleased when Dimitri and Dedue had decided to stay. Two less old schoolmates she might have to fight. Two more lives that might be saved. 

So when she heard where Felix and Hilda were going and why, she volunteered to come without time to ask permission. She was perfectly capable of riding a pegasus and keeping up with Hilda's wyvern. She was not going far, and it was after friends, not into battle. Seteth would have to understand. She had done far more dangerous things during this war. 

"This is humiliating," said Felix, arms wrapped around Hilda's waist. 

"Maybe if you could ride a wyvern better yourself, you wouldn't have to ride with me," said Hilda, rolling her eyes. "And then I could have gone sunbathing."

"I'm more useful on the ground, okay?" 

Flayn interrupted. "I would offer to allow you to ride with me, Felix, but…" Pegasuses could not bear much extra weight, and she already was carrying some.

"How would that be less humiliating?" said Felix, but quietly. Flayn missed it through the sounds of two massive wingbeats. 

"So," said Hilda, loud enough to be heard, "We can't exactly fight them to make them come back, we promised they could go where they want."

Flayn was less than confident that the three of them could win that fight even if they tried. She personally did not want it to come to that. "Fighting was not the plan." 

"I mean, I know the plan," said Hilda, with some exasperation, "I just wanna know if you two had any idea of what to actually _say_ because I have no idea."

That was better, thought Flayn. "We can still let them know they are wanted." 

"We can tell them they're being idiots," said Felix. 

"Getting some mixed signals here." Hilda did not sound optimistic. 

"If the boar and his cur want to go get themselves killed they can." Felix winced as the wyvern hit a bit of turbulence. "Can't you fly more smoothly?" 

"If you want to fly yourself, you should have let me know earlier."

"Shut up."

"If I may ask, Felix," said Flayn with some trepidation, "Why did you come? You must be concerned for them despite your, um, history. Your words do not seem to match your actions."

Hilda laughed. "Ooh, she figured out your shtick! I bet he doesn't want us to know he actually _cares_."

"I don't," said Felix in such a way that even Flayn felt he was just saying that to save face, "But there was something still human in that letter the boar wrote. I will try to fulfill the request he made, but not for honor or something so foolish. Just… one last attempt to make him see reason. And I'm not going to get _myself_ killed trying."

Still _human_ , Flayn thought, was that so. 

Hilda laughed. "That's called caring, Felix."

"I think it's sweet," said Flayn.

"See, Flayn's here to be so nice to them it'll cancel out your insults," said Hilda, "And hopefully we can get back before her brother realizes we're gone."

"I probably will not be much of help," said Flayn, blushing, "But maybe I'll at least be able to say goodbye."

"Oh, you're so cute I wanna die," sighed Hilda.

Flayn blushed harder. "I doubt my few talents will be of use, but I would like the opportunity to help." 

She felt later that she wished she had not said such a thing.

* * *

It was horrible luck. Or maybe it was good luck. Dimitri couldn't decide. Running into Imperial soldiers was a delay he did not want, but he would take out his guilty feelings by taking lives. That was clearly how one should handle guilt. 

There were suspiciously too many of the enemy for a scouting mission, and they had mages. Were they on the way to attack Garreg Mach? If that were the case, all the more reason to take them out. 

They were in the ruins of a town abandoned during the war. Plenty of places for Dimitri to hide and dart around like an assassin. But his usual tactics weren't working. He would normally let a glimpse of himself be seen and draw them out one by one, splitting the numbers. However, this group's commander gave strict orders to stick together as much as possible. Dimitri would have to fight several at once. 

So be it. 

Strike, slice, block. Stab, cut, wound, kill. There was a rhythm to it. He didn't have to think. Fight and keep fighting. But as the pile of bodies around him grew, and the enemy got a couple of hits in, he realized he was growing weary. Was he so weak, to be felled now? And where had the mages gone? He had seen them, but all he had fought so far were soldiers. 

No, they had to be trying to - 

"Your Highness!" 

Dimitri recognized that bellow. His heart sank. He had made sure Dedue was safe, he was supposed to be safe. He turned to yell at Dedue to return to the Monastery when he saw two things: the missing mages, on top of the rooftop of the tavern behind him, and Dedue rushing to come to his side. 

He saw Dedue glance to where he was looking. He saw one of the enemy mages lift a hand to fire a spell. Dedue saw that too, and acted accordingly, giving one last push to block the spell from reaching Dimitri. 

"No! Dedue, your armor won't be enough to -" 

It was too late. Dedue had thrown himself in front of Dimitri, took the hit and collapsed. 

Dimitri saw red. From his belt he pulled a javelin and with a roar threw it at the offending mage, who dodged. Dimitri ran forwards, using a small shed beside the tavern to help him climb up there, and his strength to give his leaps more height. He kept one hand firmly gripped on Areadbhar and pulled himself up onto the roof. He charged the mage who had attacked Dedue, running him through. He turned towards the other mage, who was about to cast a spell when from above, leaping down from a wyvern like some kind of avenging hawk came Felix, who cut the mage on his way down. 

"Are you crazy, I can't even believe that worked -" Flying the wyvern and looking somewhere between shocked and impressed was Hilda. 

"There are still enemies," Felix shouted at her, "Get them before you lecture me!" 

"Quickly now!" Another surprise - Flayn was there too, on top of a pegasus. 

Dimitri did not know why they were here, but as they fought the enemy and held the rest off, he ran back towards his friend, jumping off the roof and landing with a roll that still winded him. He gasped as he lurched forward, terrified at what he might find. 

"Dedue!" Falling to his knees beside his vassal, he clutched at him, pulling him up. "Please - do not be dead, please! Dedue -" 

The sound of Dedue's coughing was sweet relief. "Your Highness…"

Dimitri pressed his forehead to Dedue's, squeezing his remaining eye shut in an attempt to keep it from filling with tears. "You were going to be alright, they were going to keep you safe -" 

"But who would keep _you_ safe?"

"Um." Flayn approached, having dismounted. 

Dimitri's eye widened as he remembered she was there, and what that meant. "You - you're a healer. Please…"

Flayn knelt beside them. "Can you let him lie down?"

Dimitri obeyed, resting Dedue down on the road. He got up to step aside as she worked. 

Looking up, Hilda and Felix were both standing there, watching. They had taken care of the rest of the soldiers. Despite Hilda always claiming she was not one to fight, her axe was soaked in blood, and there were splatters on her clothes. 

"This really didn't go as planned," said Hilda with a sigh. Hurriedly, noticing Dimitri looking at her, she added, "But Flayn's really good, I'm sure Dedue will be fine." 

Dimitri's gaze shifted to Felix, who looked away. "Couldn't you have waited at least a few hours before throwing yourself into a battle you couldn't win?" 

"That is no way to speak to His Highness." Dedue was sitting up, weakly. 

Flayn dabbed off some of her sweat with a handkerchief. "Do not move so quickly now."

Dedue was alive. He was alive and it had been so close, Dimitri had been so afraid. "My friend, I ordered you to stay at Garreg Mach. You disobeyed a direct order."

"Congratulations," said Felix, "You found the one order he wouldn't follow."

Dimitri glared at him. 

"It is not disobedience if you come back with me," said Dedue, slowly rising to his feet, Flayn at his elbow. 

"What?" 

"Please, Your Highness. I will stay there so long as you are with me. I do not care what you do with me, so long as you do not abandon me." The look Dedue was giving him, sorrowful and hurt and a touch desperate - it broke Dimitri's heart. "If you wish me to stay there, join me."

This was why Dimitri had refused to say goodbye. He was weak. "Felix is right. I am nothing but an animal who thirsts for blood. Following me, you would have a short, violent life filled with nothing but death. I do not belong at the Monastery. But if you remained there, you would have a future. You would have friends. Claude would see your dreams of Duscur fulfilled - he deserves your loyalty far more than I do."

"He is not the one who made me a promise. He is not the one who saved me."

Dimitri winced. 

Felix stepped forward. "I know what I have said. Do you know what really annoys me about being right about you? Is that you don't _have_ to be like this. You could choose to be better at any time."

"I do not think you're a monster," said Flayn, shaking her head. "I think you are sad and angry and you lash out. But I know you are more than that."

Dimitri avoided their gazes. 

Hilda, who sounded as if she very much wanted to be anywhere else, said, "Whatever you choose, Claude and the Professor say you're still welcome with us. But if you want to go, Ashe made you some supplies so you won't go hungry. I'm just glad it didn't delay us any longer than it had, or we might not have made it in time."

Dimitri glanced up and followed her gesture to the packs attached to Flayn's pegasus. An unexpected kindness. Who knew that still existed in the world?

Dedue walked forward, slowly, carefully, and gripped his shoulder. "Your Highness. The situation is unchanged. Fighting with them is still our best chance of reaching Edelgard. But if you wish to continue without them, rescind your order. Keep me by your side."

Dimitri met his eyes. That was a mistake. He wanted nothing more than to tell Dedue what he truly felt, how he had wished he could sign that letter. He longed to tell him what he had kept secret for so long. He did not. He would hold his tongue. But he was weak, and he could not argue with those eyes that always watched out for him with such care.

"Dedue…"

Dedue gripped the fur, betraying his desperation. "Please, Dimitri."

That was it. One last cut to his heart as it fell to pieces. His name on Dedue's lips and he was undone. He almost lost Dedue, and was that what he wanted? Or did he want to become the person who deserved the loyalty given to him? For the first time in years, he put aside the wishes of the dead. He wanted to hear Dedue say his name again, and again and again, and to live to hear it. 

"Very well."

The tension threaded through the rest of them released. Flayn clapped her hands. "Oh, I am so very glad! Let us dine on fish together tonight to celebrate!" 

"Not to be a huge downer," said Hilda, "But Dedue's not looking too great and my wyvern could barely take Felix and me."

"No matter!" Flayn was undeterred. "We shall escort them back! I will make sure they stay in good health. And we have Ashe's food if we get hungry."

She was as good as her word, healing everyone else of their wounds as well. They walked, the winged beasts trailing behind them. They were a few hours from Garreg Mach Monastery, and after an hour or so walking with breaks, Seteth caught up to them on his own mount. 

Seteth kept giving glares Dimitri's way, as if it was his fault Flayn had run off. Flayn ended up in an argument with him. Between that and the fact that Dedue seemed angry with him and Felix had going back to being dismissive, Dimitri found the only travelling partner who was giving him the time of day was Hilda. 

They took a break while the siblings argued. Dimitri found a fallen log to sit on within sight of the others but far enough to be alone. 

Hilda did not take the hint as she sat down next to him. "So…"

He waited. 

"I was wondering…" She paused, as if inviting him to say something and when he didn't she continued, "What exactly is the relationship between the two of you? Dedue, I mean."

"He considers himself my vassal, I consider him my friend."

She raised her eyebrows. "Sounds like you two need to talk that one out."

"We have." Sort of. "What matter is it of yours?" 

"Oh, nothing, I'm just curious. And I just wanted to make sure that I knew what to call you guys. It'd be super embarrassing if I got it wrong."

That was an odd thing to say, Dimitri thought. "How could you get it wrong?"

"Well, it's just -" She tilted her head back and forth before shaking it. "Don't worry about it. But anyway! You're already being way politer than when we last spoke."

"You mean I haven't told you to leave."

"Exactly," said Hilda with a wink. "That's no way to treat a delicate lady such as myself."

"A delicate lady who took the lives of several people today."

"Nope, you're being rude again."

"It was a compliment." 

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think you understand how to compliment people anymore. I could coach you, if you wanted."

"I have no need for that." He was unsure how she had managed to become convinced he was someone she could talk to like this. 

"Let's test that with… something really easy first. Say you had to compliment Dedue. Tell me how you'd praise him and maybe I'll believe you don't need help."

That wasn't what he meant by 'I have no need for that', but he found it hard to get a read on Hilda. Was she misinterpreting him on purpose? It did not matter. 

"That's… difficult. There would be so much to say, and I am no longer eloquent enough to fully be able to describe him in words he deserves. To try to compliment Dedue would be like… a plant trying to compliment the sun. How could one even hope to try? It is all that gives it light and sustenance in the world, it is what it turns its leaves to catch, it is so constant that it is taken for granted but never forgotten." 

Hilda stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "Wow, okay, even my heart skipped a beat. You win."

He rested his forehead in his hands, letting his hair drape over his face. When was the last time he felt embarrassed? "I had not meant to say so much."

Hilda leaned in conspiratorially. "You should tell him all that yourself."

"Absolutely not. Nor will you relay it to anyone."

"Sure, sure. Not my business anyway." She got up and brushed off any leaves or dirt. "I think he'd like it, though."

Dimitri looked at the ground as she left. Dedue had made it very clear that he was Dimitri's vassal, nothing more. If he refused to be considered Dimitri's friend, then there was little chance he would appreciate such comments. Dimitri did not require reciprocation, he told himself. He would have been happy enough to know he had saved Dedue. He hoped that relenting on the decision to go alone communicated enough that weak flattery would not be necessary.

* * *

The hour was late by the time they returned. Without much fanfare, the group returned to their rooms and slept, with two exceptions: Dedue refused to leave Dimitri. After some rather pointed back and forth debate about it (wherein Dimitri would not let Dedue, who was still recovering, stand watch outside his door and neither would he let him sleep on his carpet) they were interrupted by a yawning Linhardt. 

"Boys, boys, enough. You're causing too much of a racket. Here, my room is room is near Dedue's. Drag my mattress from my bed and sleep in there. Or share a bed, I don't care, I just want you to stop arguing while I sleep."

Dedue tilted his head at him. "But will that not inconvenience you?" 

"I'll sleep in Caspar's room. It's not like it's occupied and I doubt he would mind. Ugh, but then I will have to take the stairs…"

"Would it not be easier to take Caspar's bedding, then?" 

"...I suppose."

Linhardt told them where to find it before heading back to sleep. Dimitri insisted on moving the bedding into his room himself and that Dedue take his bed. Dedue knew he should have protested more, but he did not wish to wake more of the others with further argument.

He laid down in Dimitri's bed, and breathed in the scent, indulging himself a little, refusing to close his eyes until His Highness returned and laid down himself. 

Only then did Dedue allow himself to sleep.

* * *

In his dream, the walls of the cathedral were even more broken than they were while he was awake, the crumbling remnants of walls barely a skeletal structure holding it all together. Outside the cathedral was not the rest of the monastery, but the village in Duscur where Dedue had grown up. 

Dimitri stood where the altar should be, and Dedue, on the edge of lucidity, approached. "You died."

The dream Prince looked around at him. He wore no eyepatch, and flowers bloomed from his hollow socket instead. "I did."

"Then the Professor turned back time."

The flowers bloomed and wilted, ever changing, their exact nature slipping through dream logic. "They saved the unsaveable." 

"How do I remember, when no others do not?" 

"Whose memories do you remember? Are you certain they are yours at all?" 

Dedue looked down to see Imperial spears piercing him through as he stood. He fell. Then the dream changed, and he was on Gronder Field again, but from a different perspective than usual. The spears cut right through him, though he could not feel pain in the dream. 

He heard a cry, so loud, echoing across the field. He saw himself running toward him. He was lifted by his own hands, and his own lips pressed against his forehead. He wanted to reassure Dedue, to tell him that he did not have to keep the promise, but he couldn't speak. He did not want to leave Dedue, he did not want him to carry the weight of his death alone. When Dedue told him to be at peace, all he could think was that Dedue _was_ his peace. 

His eye felt strange. He reached up to touch his right eye and petals fell out. He was in the skeletal cathedral once more, and Duscur outside was in flames. He was Dimitri, and he was dead. And he wished he had told Dedue the truth.

* * *

Dedue woke up and while keeping his eyelids closed, he tentatively felt them. Both eyes were still there. He opened them and raised his hands, looking at his skin, the soft brown he inherited from his home, not the pale skin of the Prince. 

He was Dedue Molinaro once more. 

He believed that the memories he remembered in the daylight were real, but the dreams made him question the nature of them. Were they really his memories? Was the Dimitri he spoke to a dream or a ghost? He doubted his own theory. The Dimitri he saw in his dreams must be a creation of his own mind. After all, the Dimitri in reality wanted to be his friend, the one in his mind seemed to want… 

Dedue rolled over, and saw the Prince still there, in the makeshift bed on his own floor, his hair a mess of a halo around his head, his eyes closed. He looked like an illustration from one of Ashe's books, one of the more fanciful ones. 

In Duscur they had many folktales, many of which had been passed from the old to the young through stories by the fire. Many of them had never been written down, and Dedue wondered how many of them were lost. He remembered when they were younger and Dedue still called His Highness by his name, he would tell Dimitri whatever stories he could remember as a way of practicing the tongue of Fodlan, since he was not very good at conversation directly. But he also told them because he wanted to make sure that he remembered them. He was one of the few who still could. 

Dimitri had tried to pass the responsibility of Duscur onto Claude. But Claude was not of Faerghus. Dedue was not even sure he was really from Fodlan, come to think of it. Was it better that a neutral party could work towards a better future? Or did he want the ones who tore his land apart be the ones who did the work? 

He was angry with His Highness. For not speaking to him about it. For trying to leave him behind. For wanting to die when it mattered so much to Dedue that he live. He also knew he was not angry enough. He was never angry enough. And he was always angry. 

Carefully he left the room, realizing that while he had taken off his armor he had slept in his clothes. But given that he only had the clothes he was wearing when he had arrived with Dimitri, his usual method of sleeping without would have not been appropriate. He had little gold to purchase anything new. 

It struck him that as they were not guests in the monastery, nor were they recruits in Claude's army. They were refugees. And despite that they were living on the charity of him and the Church, people had been sent to either fetch them back or see them off. They had been kind. 

Perhaps he would speak to Claude himself and see what had inspired His Highness so.

When he tried to find him, however, he was told by Hilda that Claude had gone on a 'mysterious' errand the previous day (which was why he sent her in his stead) and had not yet returned. So much for that.

Dedue was healed and had slept, so he had mostly recovered from the previous day. But it was still important to keep himself in shape, so he decided to eat. 

Sitting down in the dining hall, he was soon approached by a woman he knew briefly but not well. 

"May I be having food with you?" 

Dedue nodded at Petra and she sat down. She no longer wore the uniform of a student in the officer's academy, but nor did she wear the armor of Fodlan. She dressed in the manner of Brigid, and held herself with pride. 

Dedue had split the difference himself, incorporating patterns and fabrics of Duscur in the clothes Dimitri had tailored for him. 

"I am being told that you are to be fighting with us." Petra had a sincere smile. 

"Yes." Dedue did not know if he should elaborate. 

"This is a good thing, I am thinking."

"His Highness and I share an enemy with you." He paused. Actually, now that she was there, he could ask her about it. "Why have you gone against the Empire?" 

Petra explained the situation in Brigid, how it was under the Empire's control and how she wished to see it free. Brigid did not have the strength to fight the Empire on its own, but this war could make it so there was no longer an Empire. She fought not for Fodlan or for a Goddess she did not follow, but for herself and for her people. 

Dedue felt a certain kinship with her, in a way that was different from everyone else. "I hope you see your home free."

She smiled. "I am hoping for that also. But I had meant to be asking -" she paused, correcting herself, "I had meant to ask how you are speaking this language with fluency? I find it… difficult."

"His Highness taught me their tongue. It was not easy at first, but the language of Duscur is different but similar to the language of Fodlan, and it was common for its people to be fluent in both."

Petra nodded. "That is making sense. The language of Brigid is very different. We are not… constructing verbs the same. Sometimes I am being made fun of for my way of speaking."

Dedue shook his head. "You are mastering a thing that is difficult. I doubt they could speak your language."

Petra smiled at him warmly. They spoke for a little bit about the differences between language, and by the end Petra wished to learn the language of Duscur, and Dedue was going to try learning the language of Brigid.

His anger subsided in the face of Petra's earnestness. He should forgive the Prince. They were both back, and it would be good for them. That incident would pass.

* * *

Felix trained. He always trained. On good days he trained to become strong enough to protect those he cared about, and strong enough so that he would not die and have them mourn him. Self-sacrifice was self-serving. The dead were not the ones who had to live with the grief. The dead were just dead. 

Today was not a good day, so he trained so he would not have to think of all the things running through his head. As he struck the dummy, he took his feelings out on it, and he had a lot of them. 

He spun around at the sound of footsteps and found himself holding his sword directed at Dimitri, once and future boar. Dimitri did not even flinch. 

Felix kept his sword up. "I have nothing to say to you." 

"Not even to tell me I was being selfish?" 

That made him lower his sword but not his defenses. "At least you're aware. I should tell you off for trying to ask such things of me. I don't serve you."

"I was not asking as your liege, I was asking as your friend." Dimitri's expression was sad, and Felix turned his head so he would not have to see it. 

"We haven't been friends in years."

"Then why did you come yesterday?"

He didn't have to answer that. He wouldn't. Felix kept his eyes away, wanting this conversation to end and for neither of them to mention it and then he could burn the letter and never think about it again except! Except! He could not stop his own tongue. 

"I went so I would not have to fulfill your request. Live to tell him yourself."

"You would, though, if I died. If you wouldn't, you would not have tried to keep me alive."

Felix flushed, turning to look at Dimitri only to see an amused look on his face. Infuriating. "I don't _want_ to do it. Why didn't you ask Mercedes or Ashe? They actually _like_ that kind of thing. I don't even like you." 

Dimitri shook his head. "That's why it should be you. You would never give him useless platitudes. He would believe it if it came from you. And I trust you, Felix."

Idiot. Why did he have to make it so difficult to dismiss him outright? Felix did not need sympathy for a monster. "Stop talking as if it's still relevant. Just tell him yourself and leave me out of it."

Dimitri bowed his head and covered his face with a hand. "I… can't."

"Don't be ridiculous."

He dragged his fingers down to rest below his throat. "Would it be so easy for you to say such a thing to -" 

"Shut up," said Felix, interrupting, not wanting to hear that name from the boar. "You don't know anything."

"Would it?" 

Felix hated that his cheeks were probably giving himself away. "That's enough. I just want you to keep me out of your affairs. I have no need to see your dog pining away for a dead king like my father."

Dimitri's eyebrows shot up. "Rodrigue and my father…?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" Felix didn't know for certain, of course, his father would never admit to such a thing, but Felix was no fool.

He had thought anyone could see it, but it seemed to be news to Dimitri, who looked as though he needed to sit down.

But then he waved it off. "It does not matter, you would not have to. Dedue would not _pine_ for me."

Felix stared at Dimitri, wondering if he actually believed what he was saying. He did, didn't he? Could he not see from both eyes now? Was he really that simple? Ugh, this was not his business or what he wanted to get in the middle of. If he were Dorothea he would be pestering Dimitri with questions or trying to matchmake, but Felix had no desire for such a thing. 

"I tire of this. Leave me alone."

"Very well." Dimitri paused before he left. "I'm sorry, Felix."

Felix ran the training dummy through, not as easy a feat as it seemed, and he pushed the hilt in deep into the straw stuffing as he tried not to over-analyze that last comment. It was not the formal sort of apology Dimitri would normally say, nor was it reflexive the way Ignatz always said 'I'm sorry.'

Felix believed he really was sorry, if only for that moment. 

He withdrew his sword. 

Dammit.


	4. A Dead Linger

When Claude returned after a couple of days from arranging a certain part of the plan to take Fort Merceus, he found that there were more people in the Monastery than when he had left. Dimitri and Dedue had returned, but they were not the only ones. Claude walked into the entrance hall to find a couple of them having a conversation with the Professor and Hilda. 

Hilda spotted him first. "Claude! You're back!" 

The Professor just gave him a nod. 

"Hilda, Teach," said Claude, then he looked to the new arrivals. "Sylvain, Ingrid, it's been a while, hasn't it?" 

Sylvain and Ingrid gave him polite bows, Ingrid's a bit more sincere. "Claude, hello. I hope you're in good health."

Sylvain followed it up with a bit of jazz hands. "Surprise!" 

Hilda grinned at Claude. "Did your secret little errand you ran that you won't tell anyone about go well?" 

Claude winked. "Absolutely, but I can refuse to tell you all about it later. I'm more curious about our new guests."

Ingrid folded her hands in front of her. "A lot of us rallied under Dimitri, but we weren't ready to fight the Empire. After Gronder Field, we… scattered. But then we heard His Highness was _here_."

"You know how merchants are, Claude, they talk," said Sylvain, "Word's spread."

"Not just that, Annette arrived yesterday, Mercedes wrote her directly," added Hilda, "We've also gotten a lot of the foot soldiers who fled Gronder regrouping here."

"They're joining our army," said the Professor. 

"Huh," said Claude, though he absolutely wouldn't say no more to more people. They needed every advantage they could get. That said… "Not joining up with Dimitri? He's your prince." 

"His Highness said it would be easier this way." A look of concern or maybe disapproval crossed Ingrid's face, but Claude bet she wouldn't go against Dimitri's wishes. 

"Or," said Sylvain, looking annoyed, "Dedue told us he said that. The closest thing we've had to a conversation with His Highness was through his door."

Well that sounded like a problem Claude did not have the time nor energy to sort out. He decided to leave that particular snag up to the former Blue Lions themselves; he had too many schemes he was working on to pay more attention to their drama then he already was. Even if snooping and sticking his nose into things was one of his favorite pastimes. 

There was something that he would have to keep in mind about the situation. Namely, that keeping the Prince with them was more essential to the cause than mere idealism; he doubted these newfound troops would stick around if the reason they were here got up and left again. 

"Well, the more the merrier!" 

The logistics of it turned out to be more complicated, of course, as while some brought supplies with them, others did not. They needed to be able to feed the new mouths that were trickling in. He'd try to wheedle foodstuffs from the other Alliance leaders, but in the meantime, he would make sure they had enough for now. Claude checked on the pond first and thankfully the fish supply was good. Then he checked the greenhouse. There he was not met by the keeper but by Dedue. 

"She stepped out to get more seeds. If there is anything you wish to do, I will do the best I can."

Claude asked him how the harvests were looking. Dedue showed him. 

"Hopefully that will be enough, at least until we can bring in more supplies." Claude did the mental calculations. "Maybe I could ask the Professor to eat only three meals a day."

"You are worried, now that your numbers have increased."

Claude nodded but grinned. "I'm not complaining, but as leader I have to think about these things. So, are you relieved that you've been joined by more of your allies?" 

To Claude's surprise, Dedue frowned. "It should be good for the Prince."

"You mean if he leaves his room. But what about you?" 

"It is better I have less contact with them," said Dedue, though after a pause he added, "my former classmates may be exceptions." 

"You don't want to be around the soldiers?" Before Claude finished the question he realized why that would be. "...They're from Faerghus. And many of them hate people like you."

Dedue paused. "Their distaste is not one-sided. But I will put it aside to serve the Prince."

Claude had sympathy, though he couldn't imagine what it would be like. He felt a certain bond with Dedue, as they were both outsiders, but he knew that their circumstances weren't exactly the same. While people from Almyra were treated with disdain and suspicion within Fodlan, especially the Alliance, Claude's heritage was a secret. He passed for one of them, which was bad in its own way (hearing people talk shit about you to your face without realizing they were doing so and you couldn't tell them wasn't a good feeling, nor was staying up at night wondering what would happen if they found out), but a different kind of bad. 

Not to mention, outside of Fodlan, Almyra was still free. It could give as good as it got, and often it was the aggressor. That didn't make situations like Cyril's, who had to be more than perfect to stay afloat and still got treated with disdain by some, better, but it was a very different balance of power than with Faerghus and Duscur. Claude didn't hate the Alliance, he wanted peace. 

But maybe he couldn't possibly begin to be able to judge Dedue on how he felt about what happened to Duscur, even if he hoped for peace for them too. Claude's instinct was to make people get along, but he knew who he would prioritize if need be. He just hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

"I appreciate that, but like I said before - if anyone treats you badly I'll sort them out myself. You deserve respect as much as anyone, if not more."

"Even though I am from Duscur?" That Dedue had to ask that question was painful. 

"People from Duscur deserve respect too." How could he make him understand his position? "Dedue, Faerghus was wrong to do what it did. Even if people from Duscur _were_ responsible for the Tragedy, only the people involved should have been punished. What happened to Duscur was not just wildly disproportionate, it was… _evil_."

Dedue's face was so hard to read, and it went even stonier. Did Claude offend him? Was he angry? It was hard to tell.

Claude sighed. "I just mean, I don't think you should ever have to apologize for where you are from. Everyone else are the ones who should be apologizing to you."

Then Dedue spoke. "I have begun to see why His Highness has such faith in you." There was something in his voice, something strained. 

Dedue was barely keeping his emotions in check, Claude realized. And he would hazard a guess that Dedue used the Prince to distance himself from his own feelings. Claude figured whatever worked for him, worked. He just hoped that what he said helped not hurt. 

He also realized they were alone. Time to take a risk. "Do you want to know a secret, Dedue? My mother is from the Alliance but I grew up in the land of my father. I'm not from Fodlan. I can't say _where_ I'm from, I made a promise, but… I don't think I'd be treated the same if people knew." It was a relief to open up, but he needed to remember this wasn't about him. "I just mean, I might not know what it's like in your shoes, but if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll always make time for you."

Dedue hesitated, before nodding. "I understand. I thank you for trusting me, I will not divulge what you told me to anyone."

Still difficult to read but Claude felt he might have gotten through. "Just remember the part about what I said about talking to me about this or about Duscur or if people are being jerks or anything you want. If you want. No pressure, obviously."

There. Dedue had smiled. "You are stubborn, aren't you?" 

"Me? Nah, I'm like the wind. I weave around others, but I go where I want."

"Then Fodlan is a windmill you are making move."

"Oh, that's a good one." Claude noticed that Dedue had avoided talking about himself and had turned things back around to Claude, but that was fine. Whatever made him comfortable.

* * *

"Please accept their invitation, Your Highness." Dedue's tone was patient. 

"I am no fit dining companion." Dimitri's door was barely open, just enough for him to speak through the gap. 

"I disagree."

"My manners are not what they once were, my conversation lacking, and I do not wish to face them."

As long as Dimitri had not outright told him to leave, Dedue would keep trying. "They wish to see you."

"Why? Why would they? Even if it were not for the blood that stains my hands, I failed them. I abandoned them."

It was very fortunate that Dedue was a patient man. "No. You will only have abandoned them if you turn your back on them now." 

"... Do not say I didn't protest."

Dimitri closed the door. There were sounds, then a couple of curses, and then he emerged.  
Dedue noticed the difference immediately. Dimitri had tried to comb and tame his hair, pulling some of it back into an almost-ponytail. It was a rough attempt at being presentable, Dedue guessed. It was also, he had to admit, very striking. He longed to brush aside some of those loose bangs off His Highness's face, and made sure to keep his hands firmly at his sides. 

"You're smiling," said Dimitri. There was almost a note of self-consciousness in his voice. 

"I am glad you changed your mind." Should he compliment the hair as well, or would it be remiss to draw attention to it? Would it be inappropriate for a vassal to comment on His Highness's appearance? 

In the end, it seemed as though the moment to do so had been missed. "They're waiting for you downstairs."

Dimitri paused, reached up to the back of his head as if to undo the tie, and stopped again before leaving it in. "Very well. I will try to make this work."

"That is all I ask."

Dimitri walked past him and Dedue fell into following him, the regular occurrence. As they headed out, Dimitri said, quietly enough that Dedue wondered if he was meant to hear, "You could always ask for more."

Dedue disagreed. There was an upper limit to what he could ask for. There were some things that he could not even bring himself to ask for in his own dreams. 

The others were waiting by the greenhouse. Annette, Mercedes, (who had been delighted by their reunion) Sylvain, Ashe, and Ingrid. Felix was absent. When Dimitri arrived, all of them gave a bow, except for Annette who gave an excited little curtsy. 

"Your Highness, I'm so glad you're okay," she said, grinning so earnestly and so sweetly it diffused half the tension immediately. 

"I told you," said Ashe, "He has just been shy."

When the others had approached Dedue earlier to get him to pass on their invitation, they had not been so cheerful. Dedue was grateful for Ashe and Annette, whose smiles were infectious. 

Mercedes, who had earlier seemed to disapprove of Dimitri avoiding the others in a concerned sort of way, now gave a tinkling laugh. "I like what you've done with your hair. It's nice. Did Dedue do that for you?" 

"I did not," said Dedue, but he took the opportunity to correct what may have been an earlier mistake. "But I do agree." 

Dimitri, who seemed like he did not know what to say, was silent, though a rare blush spread across his cheeks. Dedue treasured the sight. 

"Please forgive me for taking so long to find you again, Your Highness," said Ingrid, "But thank you for joining us for a meal."

"Didn't your pegasus get shot down?" Sylvain asked her. "You're too hard on yourself, Ingrid. Personally, I just want to eat already."

Dimitri took a breath and clearly steeled himself before bowing deeply. "I have so many apologies I owe all of you, but I thank you. I would be honored to join me for a meal."

The group all started talking at once, and they started to head for the dining hall. The newer arrivals all had questions for Dimitri and as they walked they encircled him like a small flock of twittering birds. The ones who had been at the monastery the whole time held back and walked beside Dedue. 

"He has already changed a lot since he arrived," said Mercedes, voice tactfully low, "But it's still there, isn't it? Whatever has been making him so… sad and angry."

Dedue thought that was something of a diplomatic way to describe it. "It had always been there."

"But he's not like he was at Gronder," said Ashe, "He's calmer. That's not nothing."

No, it wasn't nothing. Dedue had to bite his tongue in order not to say something about how Dimitri had been dead at Gronder. That had not happened. Not in the end. 

They ate, and Dimitri was not exaggerating when he had said his manners were bad. He hadn't eaten at a table for half a decade and it showed. And he was still less patient with them as he once was. But Ashe and Mercedes were right; Dimitri was different. He was not the old Dimitri but he was not lost to the dead as he once was. 

Sometimes some of the other people under Claude came by to say hello as they ate. Marriane and Hilda; Hilda showered Dimitri's new hair with compliments ("Isn't it nice, Dedue?"), Marianne quietly told the Prince she was glad to see him spending time with his friends. Flayn and Seteth; Seteth apologized for being short with him the other day, Flayn said she was so happy she wouldn't have to fight any of them and looked like she was going to cry. Leonie, Raphael and Ignatz; they gave them all cheerful waves and hellos. Dorotha and Manuela; Dorothea eyed Dimitri suspiciously until he pinged on it and said his enemy was Edelgard, not everyone from the Empire. 

Felix did not make an appearance. 

After a while, Dedue could tell that Dimitri was barely able to socialize anymore, getting more closed off by the minute and looking strained. "Your Highness, it may be prudent for you to get some rest."

Dimitri nodded and allowed Dedue to make their goodbyes, and the two left. Dimitri sighed with relief once they stepped out. 

"If I had known it would be so hard on you, I would not have suggested you accept," said Dedue, apologetic. 

"No, it surprises me that I was so welcomed but it did me no harm," said Dimitri, "But I no longer find company easy. It… takes effort to keep myself together."

Dedue thought that even though it was difficult for him he was still better at conversation than he was. But he recognized that just because Dimitri made it look easy did not mean that was so. 

"I understand. Rest, Your Highness. Take your time."

"You are always more patient with me than I deserve."

"I am as patient with you as much as you deserve."

Dimitri paused, and he looked into Dedue's eyes. "You lost patience with me the other day, didn't you? I did deserve that. I… I cannot apologize enough."

It was good to hear him admit it. Dedue would not lie and say that he hadn't, nor did he feel like he should dwell on it. Instead he said, "I spoke with Claude. I understand your belief in him, but I would rather see the future I believed _you_ could make."

Dimitri's eye darted away from Dedue's face, his shoulders slumping forward. "Claude plans to move on Edelgard. The Kingdom is lost. I may never be crowned King, even if that was still what I wanted." He looked back at Dedue and for a second he moved as if to put his hand on Dedue's arm, before he stopped himself. "What would you have me do then? I mean that sincerely - tell me what I could do and I will do it."

Dedue was torn. He had worked so hard and so long with a goal in mind. He could not argue the possibility that Dimitri may never be king. "Then live, Your Highness, and for whoever does come to power in Fodlan, work with them. Do not abandon Duscur to strangers. Even if you cannot personally rule, please… keep trying."

Dimitri looked out over the pond, and for a long moment he did not respond.

"You are right. I will speak to Claude and the Professor. I will do what I can for your people."

Dedue believed in Dimitri. This response did not surprise him because he always knew the Prince would do the right thing, even if he did countless wrong things before then. That affection creeped back into Dedue's heart.

"Thank you, Your Highness. Now please, I believe you wish to be alone. I will go back to sleeping in my own room once more."

In other words, he was saying he trusted Dimitri to not leave him again. He hoped that it would be a source of some comfort to His Highness. Dimitri closed his eyes and let out a breath. 

"Yes, of course." He did not sound comforted.

* * *

Days passed. Dedue had many dreams, some more like the ones he used to have before, some nightmares, and some of Dimitri, who had stopped telling him he was dead. But Dedue noticed something - Dimitri would turn up in his normal dreams, but Dedue could tell the difference between those ones and what he thought of as _a dream of Dimitri_. For the Dimitri who spoke of dying, Dedue was often more lucid and the conversations more coherent for a dream. 

One night, he dreamed that Flayn and Annette were making a fish dish for Dimitri, but Dedue had to stop them or Dimitri would choke on the giant bones.

Then there was a shift in his dream, and Dimitri was also there. A second one. 

The Dimitri from the silly dream about fish wore his hair up like he had taken to recently. His demeanor was similarly closer to how he now lived. 

The second Dimitri's hair was still loose, and there was still that edge of violence in his every movement. The swish of his cape seemed to whisper a sense of loss as he walked around the first Dimitri, as if fascinated. 

When Dedue saw him, he knew this was a dream. The fish did not matter. The Annette, Flayn, and the first Dimitri didn't seem to acknowledge the other Dimitri's presence, continuing their farce. 

"So this is what he is like." There was something about the Other Dimitri's voice, a bittersweet tone tinged with envy. 

"You're not him." Dedue knew it now. The Dimitri he dreamed of and the Dimitri when he was awake: they were not the same.

"He is the one who survived. I was not as lucky."

The Other Dimitri walked out of the dining hall and Dedue followed. As they left through the doors, they stepped out not into the gardens but onto Gronder Field. It was empty. In the dream it stretched on forever, far past the horizon. 

"Are you truly a ghost?" asked Dedue. 

"I _think_ I am, even if I exist only in your mind. It is difficult to say."

Dedue thought about this. "Ashe said he wished the dead could live in us. I do not think this is what he had in mind."

The other Dimitri gave a bark of laughter, which died just as suddenly. "I would leave you in peace, my friend, if I could. I remember what it was like to be haunted by the dead."

Dedue did not think it was the same. Dimitri spoke to those that were not there when he was awake, but Dedue's ghost remained only in his dreams. Did that make his more real? Or less real? 

"You are no longer troubled by them?" 

"I believe it may be because a ghost cannot be haunted by other ghosts. Or perhaps that it is difficult to be troubled by anything once you have died."

Either option made as much sense as anything else. Dedue had noticed while there had already been a noticeable drift (at least to him, who knew Dimitri well) between the two Dimitris, this one had also mellowed out slowly since Gronder, even if he still walked as if he were prowling. He wondered if those lack of ghosts was the reason.

"I wish I could be a better host for you, Dimitri."

Dimitri spun to look at Dedue, eye wide. "My name - you used my name."

Dedue walked over and carefully pulled Dimitri into a hug. "My Prince, His Highness, he lives still. I wish to see the day that we are equals, and so I refrain until then. But you have passed. Death equalizes us all."

Dimitri stiffened, then buried his face in Dedue's shoulder, clinging to him, holding him tight. "I wish I was not here, burdening you unnecessarily with my death. And yet, still you comfort _me_."

"I am not sure there is more I can do. If there is, please tell me." Dedue could not make him live again. He did not know how to bring this ghost to peace, or if the Goddess of Fodlan would take him. Much like the living prince, all Dedue could do was be there for him.

Dimitri withdrew himself from the hug. "I… I wish I could, but now I think it would be better if _he_ did."

Dedue woke before he could ask him what he meant.

* * *

"Do you have ghosts in Brigid?" 

Petra looked up at Dedue, surprised. "Do you mean are we having ghosts in Brigid, or if we are believing of ghosts in Brigid."

They were leaving the library, and Petra had been teaching Dedue how to speak some of her language, while Dedue taught her some of his.

"That seems to answer the first question. If you had ghosts, you would not need to ask."

She laughed. She did not think Dedue was joking (it could be hard to tell sometimes in Fodlan), but she had learned that Dedue was usually funny in his straightforwardness. 

"This is a true thing. I have not been seeing any, but there are many stories. But I am wondering why you are asking. You are not usually…" What was the phrase Hilda had used the other day? "Having _flights of fancy_."

She remembered that phrase because she had imagined Lorenz on a pegasus, but had asked for clarification. Hilda couldn't stop laughing when she told her what she had imagined. 

He actually blushed. "I was only curious."

"It is not being a bad thing, I think! It is, um, unexpected." She did not want him to think she was making fun of him. She worried constantly about miscommunication, particularly in tone. She did not want to hurt anyone by her words, either through misunderstanding or by being callous. 

Dedue, however, was as patient as he was tall: very. "I understand. I am more down to earth, usually."

Petra made a humming sound, playing with one of her bracelets as they walked. "In Brigid, we are believing in spirits. Many of the, um, occurrences that the people of Fodlan say are signs that they are having ghosts, Brigid knows are spirits. But we are having some stories of people who are dying horrible deaths and… um, what is the word? Staying for longer?"

"To linger?" 

"That is it! They are lingering."

She missed her home. Here whenever something unexpected fell off a table in the dark, or if someone saw a glowing light over the pond at night, they would claim the monastery was haunted. She did not believe that. At home, they would think of spirits first. The monastery was not haunted, she thought, but sometimes it seemed as though the Prince of Faerghus was. Maybe that was why Dedue was asking, but she was not sure. It didn't matter, really. 

"Duscur has similar tales. I wonder if it is possible to help them find peace."

"That is a good question to be asking. I would like to know, also." She did not know if she would ever need such knowledge, but she knew she would wish she did if the situation ever came up. "Maybe there is someone else you can be asking? I am thinking I heard Lysithea speaking about ghosts before."

She was pretty sure she had, at least, but it was not a conversation Lysithea was having with her. Perhaps she should not have said anything? 

But before she could clarify, Dedue said, "Thank you. I may ask her later."

He gave a short bow and they went their separate ways. Petra left to go train, wondering if she had given correct advice.

* * *

The dead had been quiet, ever since Dimitri had tried to run and almost lost Dedue. Or at least, he was better at putting them aside to focus on the present. 

Right at the moment that was training. After years of fighting Imperial troops, however, it was difficult keeping up his training with mere training dummies.

Dimitri paused, leaning on his training lance and making a disgruntled sound in his throat. 

"What, giving up already?" Leonie approached, also holding a training spear, manner casual. 

"No."

"So what's wrong, you sick or something, Dimitri? You don't really seem the type to train for five minutes and stop." 

She used his name. He wondered if she noticed or cared. Leonie was not of his country or his former House, a commoner of the Alliance, but even they often called him 'Your Highness' with some exceptions. It seemed Leonie was one of them. But while it pleased him that she did not use the polite but distant term of address, a part of him noticed how different his reaction was to how it felt when Dedue used his name. He was glad she used his name, not overcome by it. 

He looked at her, really paying attention this time. "You have been watching me?" 

"Well yeah, I wanted to see what your technique is like."

He turned, lifting his spear and laying it on a shoulder, curious as to her observations. "And what do you think?" 

"Your technique is definitely good but… you seem like you're missing something," she said, bluntly but not cruelly so, "I almost ran into you at Gronder, I don't know if you remember -" 

He felt a twinge of shame. "I don't."

She waved it off. "Doesn't matter. I got out of your way before anything happened. Point is, you fought like a demon. Now you're just coasting."

He took no offence; she was right. "The training dummies offer little challenge and I… have less rage than I once did."

Leonie nodded. "Makes sense. It's probably better that you're less angry now but for the other thing - want to spar? It's not a brag to say I'm more of a challenge than a dummy, right?" 

"You wish to spar with me?" It often took him a while to convince people to spar with him. Back in the Academy, many treated him as if he was porcelain. Now it was because they were afraid he would take it too far. Privately, he agreed. 

"Of course," she said as if it were the most simple thing in the world, "I don't want to coast either. Fighting you should teach me something, win or lose."

"Very well." He got in position, facing her in the middle of the training yard and getting his lance in a good starting position. "Don't hold back."

"I won't! Except, you know, from killing you. I'd appreciate it a bunch if you could do the same?" 

He couldn't help but smile at that. "I did make a promise to Claude not to maim any of you."

"Well that's good to know," she said. 

She was good. She was smaller than him but that gave her more speed, and he found that he had to pick up the pace to keep up with her. Leonie was also trickier in battle than he would have guessed from her straightforward nature. She wasn't afraid to fight dirty - quite literally at one point when she threw sand in his face.

Afterward, they stood panting and sweating but both rather pleased. Someone started clapping loudly, then gave a loud whistle. 

"That was awesome! Sorry about your loss, Leonie, but you did real good!" Raphael was certainly full of energy. 

Beside him, Ignatz stood drawing something in a sketchbook. "Oh, is it over? That's a shame, I was hoping to get a few more sketches in…"

When had they gotten an audience? Dimitri had been so caught up in the spar that he hadn't even noticed. 

"Are you trying to say sketching will help you learn again, Ignatz?" Leonie walked over to him. "If you want to learn, you should fight him yourself."

Ignatz practically jumped. "Oh no, that's quite alright, um, uh, I'm sure His Highness doesn't -" 

After a moment's hesitation, Dimitri joined them. It felt… odd to walk off immediately. "I believe that was enough for me today."

"Aw," said Raphael, sounding very disappointed, "I woulda liked to go up against you."

Remembering Raphael's enthusiasm for strength, Dimitri had no doubt that was sincere. "Some other time, perhaps."

Dimitri peered at Ignatz's drawings, who immediately began babbling about how he didn't have the time to draw any details or make them refined, just quick sketches for notes, and so on. 

Dimitri gently held out a hand. "They capture the movement sufficiently. May I have a look?" 

Ignatz's eyes widened and his mouth opened, and Dimitri expected a refusal. "Oh, uh, you - I guess? I mean, if that's what you want, Your Highness."

Concerned, Dimitri frowned as he was handed the sketchbook. "I'm hardly a prince, let alone a prince of your country. If you do not wish for me to see your work -" 

"Nah, I want to look at them too," said Leonie, shuffling around so she could see. "Ignatz just gets shy."

"Yes," said Ignatz with a bit of hesitation, "It's alright, really."

Dimitri spent a moment looking at the sketches, wondering how Ignatz could have depicted him as something so light and almost delicate. Dimitri did not feel he deserved such a set of beautiful drawings. Monsters shouldn't have such quick, smooth lines, they should be ugly things. 

"Ignatz," said Raphael, elbowing his friend. "You should show him that other drawing you did of him!" 

Ignatz looked mortified. "Raphael, don't tell him about that!" 

Leonie raised her eyes up from the page to look at Ignatz. "What, you've drawn Dimitri before? When?" 

"When he was spending a lot of time in the Cathedral… I just thought it was a striking image, that's all, but I really should have asked."

Dimitri wasn't sure what to feel about that. "Is it in this book?" 

"Earlier," said Ignatz, "But yes."

Dimitri flipped through the pages. Ignatz's sketchbook was full of drawings of anything and everything, landscapes and places he'd been, flowers and puddles, the Monastery and people, and there - a page where there was a sketch of the altar, light shining through the broken walls of the cathedral, and somewhat in the distance, Dimitri was there, a shadowy presence that lurked, avoiding the light. It felt far more suitable to how Dimitri felt, like some kind of ghost haunting the cathedral, though there was a certain beauty to it. 

Ignatz was trying to explain his thinking while the other two commented on it, but Dimitri tuned it all out, having noticed the other drawing on the page. The sketchbook was large, and many pages had multiple drawings, possibly to save paper, and while Dimitri's took up most of its own page, there was another sketch at the bottom. 

Dedue had his sleeves pulled up, dirt on his hands as he repotted one of the plants in the Greenhouse, with such a gentle and delicate expression on his face. The drawing was simple, but Ignatz had captured Dedue perfectly. Dimitri was not sure if he had seen a depiction of Dedue like this before. The only ones he knew of were a couple of portraits from before even the Academy, with Dedue in the background of paintings of Dimitri, after he had insisted his friend be included. Those were always stiff and formal. This was Dedue, on his own, with something he loved.

Dimitri couldn't take his eyes off the drawing. 

"Do you want it?" 

That managed to bring Dimitri back into the conversation as he looked up at Ignatz with some surprise. "Excuse me?" 

"Well, it's just, I haven't seen you smile at all since you've arrived." 

When Ignatz said that, Dimitri realized he was right. He _was_ smiling. Dimitri wasn't sure if it actually was the first time since he arrived, like Ignatz said, but he couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that. A touch embarrassed, he said, "It is a good drawing."

Hopefully the three commoners around him would not think he meant the drawing of Dedue, which was the one he liked, and assume he meant the drawing of himself. 

Ignatz looked pleased. "I'm glad. If it makes you happy, I'd like you to have it."

"Oh, lucky," said Leonie, "Ignatz is usually way more shy with giving away his stuff."

"Shush," said Ignatz, pulling out a small knife. "Can you hold it steady for me?" 

"It's really not necessary…" Dimitri said, but he held the sketchbook still. 

Very, very carefully Ignatz cut the whole page from the binding, making sure not to cut the page below. Once done, he pulled it off and traded it for the sketchbook back. There was enough gap between the two drawings that Ignatz could have easily just given him the first one, but perhaps that was too much work. Instead, Dimitri now had the whole page. 

"You have my gratitude," he said, feeling like words weren't enough. Maybe he _should_ have let Hilda coach him on compliments. 

Ignatz just seemed to be pleased with his reaction, Leonie tried to wheedle him into giving her a drawing too, and Raphael interrupted them both with a declaration of how hungry he was. Dimitri used that as an excuse to make his escape. 

He hurried from the training ground, trying to keep himself from ripping the drawing by accident, an altogether too easily foreseeable tragedy, but he managed to get back to his room without incident. He put the drawing on the desk and admired it some more. But there was a problem nagging at him. There was Dedue, gorgeous and peaceful, in a moment of extreme care. But then, on the same page, there was himself, a dark blot on an otherwise beautiful scene. He didn't deserve to be on the same page. 

He pulled his own knife from his belt and with much nervousness, and a silent apology to Ignatz, Dimitri cut the sheet in two. Luckily he didn't manage to damage either of the drawings, though his desk now had a deep cut in it, as he could not easily control how hard he pressed. Ah well. 

He placed the drawing himself in a drawer, out of sight, sure it would be rude to ruin it, and placed the drawing of Dedue where he could see it. 

Dimitri sat down on his bed and leaned back, covering his good eye with a hand. What was he doing? He had far bigger things to concern him. The attack on Fort Merceus was rapidly approaching, and here he was, getting sentimental over a piece of art. Such a little thing. 

But he only ever got the little things. A smile here, a hand on his shoulder there. The ever rare and ever cherished sound of his name. The feel of being lifted in Dedue's arms, the only comforting feeling beyond the pain. The precious moments when Dedue let an emotion show. Dimitri collected the little things and held them close because those were the only things he was allowed to have. 

Hopeless.

Soon he would go to battle, and he wondered if he would die without ever saying a word about what he wished could be to his most loyal but ever-distant vassal. He was prepared to do so. He was prepared to take it to the grave. But would he regret it, if he did? He had given Felix a request with that in mind, and he knew it was only for his self-satisfaction.

Dedue would do anything for him. That was why he couldn't tell him. He did not want to make Dedue feel obligated to be with him the way Dimitri wanted. But the secret ate at him. 

_Tell him yourself._ No, Felix, he did not have that luxury. The only way Dedue could find out that Dimitri was completely and unforgivably in love with him was posthumously. 

That was the correct call, wasn't it?

After that training, he was tired. Perhaps a nap would refresh him and rid him of these thoughts. Dimitri fell asleep calling himself a coward but dreamed of gentle hands, soft kisses and desperate moans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaning into my mic here and saying "new game plus's Dimitri hair option has rights"
> 
> Thank you everyone who has left comments and kudos, I hope you continue to enjoy this fic!


	5. Show No Merceus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you need a head's up for this kind of thing: this is not, unfortunately, an "everybody lives" au. I'm sorry.

Preparations were under way to start marching toward Fort Merceus, and there was much to do for everyone, mostly. Dedue and Dimitri were technically not part of the army, and while included, had nothing to prepare but themselves. 

Dedue ended up volunteering in the kitchen for meals in the meantime, which was when he noticed Lysithea there late in the evening, treating herself to a piece of cake with relish. That was right, she was fond of sweets, often coming for seconds, wasn't she? Hopefully she wouldn't be too full.

He prepared a little something before approaching her. "Lysithea."

She looked up, an annoyed expression on her face as she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. "Is there something the matter, Dedue? I'm very busy right now." 

He looked at the cake she was eating and back at her. 

Her pale skin betrayed a bit of a blush on her cheeks. "I have been spending the day making sure my battalion is pristine and have earned a moment's break."

He placed the new dessert he made on the table. "I am not judging you. I was… hoping you would enjoy this."

She looked at the treat and her mouth twitched. She pulled it toward her as if she insisted on doing so in a dignified manner even though the speed at which she did so made her eagerness clear. "Okay, I will accept this. Please sit down, would you?" 

Dedue did so opposite her, awkwardly stiff. For some reason despite being twice her size in height and width he found her almost intimidating. Maybe it was her lack of fear, or maybe it was because she was extremely skilled at the one thing he had no defense for. 

Lysithea tore off a piece of the sweet treat with her fork, which was made of thin layers of fried pastry with a sweet cream between them and brushed with honey. She took a bite and made a pleased little noise.

"Delicious," she said, "What is it?" 

"A pastry I was once taught," he did not say it was from Duscur, "Adapted for Fodlan tastes." Which was another way of saying he couldn't find the usual ingredients so he made due. 

She took another bite, clearly relishing it. She chewed and delicately swallowed before she said, "Feel free to make it for me at any time."

He smiled at that. Food bridged gaps that words could not, which he was always grateful for. 

She tapped the plate with her fork. "Now, what are you trying to bribe me for?" 

She was very straightforward, wasn't she? But that was not a bad thing; he often found pleasantries difficult. "I had a question, but it is not urgent."

"Waiting will be a waste of time, just ask." 

He paused, not sure how to approach the subject. "I heard you are someone to ask about ghosts?" 

The effect was not just not what he had hoped, but alarming. Her fork froze halfway to her mouth, trembling in the air. "What? Why - why would I know anything about ghosts? Are you trying to disturb me?" 

He was not sure what he had done wrong. "No, I only wished for assistance with one."

"Assistance? What's that supposed to mean?" There was a note of panic in her otherwise frustrated voice. "Are you suggesting there's a ghost haunting the Monastery?" 

He had definitely said something wrong. Now he was starting to feel distressed for upsetting her. "No, it is not haunting the Monastery -" 

"Then you are trying to say there _is_ a ghost, only that it is somewhere else? I'm - I'm not afraid, you know!" That was very obviously untrue: her voice quivered, her eyes were wide and her shoulders shook. 

This felt familiar. Dedue was reminded of his little sister, and he wondered if she would have grown up to be like this girl in front of him if she had survived. But she was gone - gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. The dirt that covered her could hardly be called a grave, and it had been marked with a simple stone from what had once been their house, scorched and fragile. Dedue was not sure if he would ever be able to find it once more. 

It was cruel, that the ghost he was haunted by was one he saw living every day, while he would do anything to speak with his family again, even in dreams. Or perhaps it was a blessing, for when Dedue woke Dimitri was there, alive, the loss fading away, but if he dreamed of his family, all he would wish for while walking the world would be to sleep once more. 

He was barely aware that Lysithea was still talking. He was fathoms away, choking on memories and unable to breathe. 

The Professor put a hand down on the table between them, hitting the table with just enough force for Dedue to be aware that they had arrived. "Hey. You didn't mean to upset Lysithea, did you, Dedue?" 

"No, my apologies," he said slowly, looking at Lysithea. "I made a mistake based on misinformation. If there is anything I can provide that can make up for it, inform me at once."

Lysithea's anger deflated, feathers unruffling, teeth no longer metaphorically bared. She pushed at the dessert on her plate with her fork. "You did make me this, I suppose that will suffice."

"Let's leave you alone to enjoy it," said the Professor, looking at Dedue sideways. 

He got the point and stood up. "My apologies again."

"No," said Lysithea, shaking her head, "I should be the one to apologize. I may have… overreacted."

The Professor helped them smooth it over some and then gently led Dedue back to the kitchen. "What happened?" 

Dedue explained a fairly abridged version. The Professor nodded along before asking, "Ghosts… Is this about your dreams?" 

The Professor had been the one to confirm that his memories of Gronder were not false, simply divided into two. He had not forgotten. But he had not wanted to bother them with the matter, partly because they were very busy and mostly because he was afraid of finding out whether or not the Dimitri in his dreams was a product of his mind coping with the loss he witnessed but never truly experienced, or if he really was haunted by a Dimitri unable to find peace.

There was a safety in ambiguity. There were questions raised that he was not sure how to deal with if answered. But if there was any chance that the Dimitri in his dreams was real, then he still had a duty by him. He would have to face it. 

"Yes," he said, carefully, knowing that they were not alone in the busy dining hall, though the noise masked their conversation as well as privacy would. "Is it possible that… the one who fell in Gronder could be haunting me now? Is that why I remember?" 

All of the fretting had been pointless as the look on Byleth's furrowed eyebrows, downturned mouth and wide eyes made clear even before they spoke. "I don't know."

Dedue's own mouth took a downward turn. "I see."

The Professor put a light hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. If I could ask S - the Goddess, I would, but…"

Dedue shook his head. "No. It is not your fault." Though he had to wonder, at the mention of her, if this was the doing of the Goddess of Fodlan? He was not sure if he liked the idea. But another occurred to him. "Perhaps one the gods of Duscur is playing a trick on me."

"Why would a god play a trick?" 

"In Duscur the god of knowledge and stories is also a trickster. I have knowledge I did not wish to have. Again," he raised a hand before they could interrupt, "I do not blame you." 

"A trickster god..." Byleth looked thoughtful. 

"He often knows things that others would not wish him to know, and must use cunning and wiles to avoid trouble. But in the end, either a lesson is learned or something that needed to change has changed."

The Professor smiled. "That sounds a little like Claude."

Dedue almost smiled in return at that. "Yes, I can see the similarities."

"Do you think that you've learned a lesson from the dreams?" 

The only thing he seemed to learn from the dreams was that he could mourn someone who still lived. "I do not think so."

Byleth tilted their head. "Then maybe something still has to change."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. Dedue prepared to get back to work in the kitchens as Byleth patted his arm and left. Instead of more answers he had acquired more questions. 

* * *

That night, he was in a field of sunflowers, their faces turned towards a sunless sky. Dedue took a moment to breathe in, though the copper tang to the air made him pause. 

He looked around for him, and was gratified to see the ghost nearby. Dimitri was looking at one particular sunflower, a gorgeous specimen, and when he saw Dedue looking, he smiled. Taking out a knife, he sliced the sunflower from its stem, and almost immediately the flower bled thick red blood from its cut as if it were a wound. 

"That was not what I -" Dimitri dropped the sunflower in horror. "I confess, I do not always like your mind, Dedue."

Dedue stared at where it lay, the stem still bleeding, the flower curling inwards. He stepped over it and gently drew Dimitri away, putting his hands on either side of his face to turn it away from the sight. "I am sorry."

Dimitri pulled Dedue's hands away and shook his head. "I am an uninvited guest, and you do not mean to dream of such things. I only wish that your life was one that did not lead to such unpleasant things."

It was odd, hearing a dream question a dream. But Dedue was not sure anymore that this Dimitri _wasn't_ a ghost. He remembered the questions he had been asking around, but perhaps he was asking the wrong people. He steeled himself.

"Do you only exist in my dreams?"

"I…" Dimitri stopped as a wind passed through the flowers, and the sound they made was less like rustling and more like quiet screaming. Dimitri clutched his ears, his face distorting. 

It was a dream. It was his own mind. Could he not change things? Dedue could not concentrate, exactly, his mind drifted still, but he tried to think, in a simple way: _and then this happened_. 

The sunflowers were gone. They were still among flowers, but they were in delicate vases in a small hut.

Dimitri looked around. "Where is this?" 

"It is the place where I healed from my wounds when we were apart."

Or it was supposed to be. The dream version was distorted and inaccurate. What was the same was that it was a small, cramped room that had once been a pantry, with a bed barely able to fit the space. In the real version, there were always some foodstuffs still on the shelves. In this dream, the shelves were packed with Fodlan style vases one might see in a noble's house, filled with greens and cultivated flowers. 

Dimitri sat down on the bed. "I see. This is new."

Dedue joined him. It was cramped. "It was the first place I thought of. I am sorry it is not fitting for a prince."

"I am no longer a prince, remember? But there is no need to feel shame. This is the place that brought you back to me. That makes it holy."

"Dimitri." Dedue wasn't sure if he was scolding him or not - it was not his place to claim heresy for a religion he did not believe in. And a part of him resented it now. Surely if his Goddess cared for him she would have brought his soul to her already.

Or maybe it was as he had suggested, that the gods of Duscur that tied Dimitri to Dedue, a trick or a lesson or something in between. Or perhaps it was that he was because he was lucid dreaming and the words Dimitri spoke were the ones he wanted to hear. 

Dimitri traced a scar on Dedue's cheek with a finger, not quite touching skin, refraining. "You asked me if I only exist in your dreams. The answer is yes, and no."

"I do not understand."

"When you sleep, I am awake. When you are awake, I am asleep. But I dream of what you do. I do not mean to pry but I… get impressions."

"Impressions?" 

"Of what you are thinking, or what you are feeling. I have found you feel so deeply."

This was not what Dedue expected or wanted to hear. His reflex was repression. He survived by sheer endurance and the ability to shrug things off, both physically and emotionally. 

One of the strongest emotions that he felt he needed to close off, box off, keep low. That was not a secret from Dimitri, but not one he wished for him to have to feel - that unending anger towards what had been done to his people. 

But there were other emotions that he was alarmed to think of Dimitri knowing. The ones that laced their every interaction, ghost or prince, that was different. Dedue had guarded those particular feelings just as fiercely as he protected Dimitri himself. If the ghost could feel what he felt, did he know? Had he known from the start? 

He remembered some of the earlier dreams. Did he know then? _Did he know_? 

The vases in the room shattered. 

And he woke up.

* * *

Dedue had no time to obsess over dreams, he had a battle to concern himself with. He could stress about them once it was over. And he had other problems as well.

The soldiers from the Kingdom who had been trickling in and joining up were there for Dimitri, but they eyed Dedue with suspicion. At the Monastery, he avoided them and they him. As they marched towards Fort Merceus, however, and Dedue kept pace with Dimitri, the side-eyes became outright stares filled with resentment. 

When they stopped in Myrddin on the way, the Professor and Claude and some of the other officers had a strategy meeting, which Claude strongly suggested, without making it seem like a huge deal, that Dimitri attend. Dedue was invited as well but he declined, preferring to prepare in his own way. He did not need to offer his opinion for this, only do whatever his Prince asked. 

The minute Dimitri was no longer in immediate ear range, a soldier came up to stand in front of Dedue, who was seated, checking his armor. The man's legs were apart, his arms folded, chin up - this was not going to be a friendly conversation. 

"You're poisoning His Highness against his own people."

Dedue did not want a fight. "I am not." He did not say so petulantly, but with the force of fact. 

"Yeah? He won't even look at us, the _real_ loyal ones, but he spends all his time with you! You people from Duscur, you weren't satisfied enough murdering our King, now you have to corrupt his son to your vile ways? You make me sick."

He could weather this, as all things. He continued to check his armor was moving smoothly, that was more important. If a bit of it had rusted, it could lock up. In battle, that could cost him his life or that of his charge. "I only wish to serve His Highness." 

"Oh yeah? Why don't you prove it and die for him? That's all Duscur is good for -" 

Felix stepped between them, hand on his sword. "Enough."

Of all the people to come to his aid, Dedue had not been expecting him. He never expected anyone, really, but Felix would have never even begun to cross his mind. The noble did not draw attention to the weapon at his side, nor did he draw it, but it was clear from every muscle in his body that he would and could use it. 

Maybe it was the sword and maybe it was because he was faced with the son of Lord Rodrigue, but the soldier took a step back. "But - but, my lord - surely you understand. Your brother died at the hands of those -" 

"I said _enough_." Felix's tone allowed no further argument. "Go to battle prepared to fight for your life or run, but don't waste everyone's time picking pointless fights. Or do you really want to test me?" 

"...I understand, my lord," said the soldier, who said so with as much 'I disagree but you're a noble' as the commoner could muster. 

As the soldier slinked off, Dedue looked at Felix with fascination. "You defended me."

"Don't read too much into it." Though he was still aggressive in tone and manner, Felix had let go of his sword. "I just don't like idiots."

Dedue decided to put more stock in his actions than his words. "Saying that implies you think he was in the wrong. But you dislike me."

"And I still dislike you," Felix insisted, brow knit in irritance. "I know you would commit any atrocity your master would ask of you. Don't assume this means that my feelings have changed."

"Then why did you not side with that man? He also dislikes me."

"Weren't you listening? I don't care if you're from Duscur or not, I care about what you _do_."

Understanding clicked, and in his surprise, Dedue made the barest hint of a chuckle. 

That only seemed to irritate Felix more. "What? What's so amusing?" 

Dedue met his eyes evenly, an almost-smile on his face. "You defended me not because that man disliked me, but because you think he disliked me for the wrong _reasons_."

A shade of pink tinged Felix's face. "So? It bothered me. I didn't do it for you."

Dedue was patient. "No, but there are many who hate me. The Empire would kill me as their enemy. The people of Faerghus hate the people of Duscur. You are the only person who hates me for myself."

"That's -" Felix's face shifted from irritance to surprise, then settled on something different, as if he could not decide how to feel. "Does it matter? The end result is the same."

Dedue shook his head. "Tell me, do you blame Duscur for the Tragedy?" 

Felix paused, eyes flickering between Dedue's. "If I found the one who cut down my brother I would kill them if they still lived, but… I'm not convinced that they were from Duscur. But even if they were, the death that followed… so many died who weren't even soldiers. They killed civilians, children, the elderly. I refuse to sully my blade with the deaths of innocents, unlike you. It's monstrous to blame an entire people for the actions of some from it and punish them for it. So no, I don't blame _Duscur_."

"Your hate is focused on me." And Dedue knew he could take it; he was used to people hating him, he could and had shrugged it off. "But should you meet another of Duscur, you would not hate them for my actions. The end result is _very_ different."

It was, perhaps, the bare minimum to expect from one of Faerghus, but there was something Dedue appreciated about it, in a strange way. It wasn't that it was nice to be disliked, and he very much did not appreciate how Felix spoke about Dimitri, but at least he, not the people of Duscur, would be the target of his scorn. 

Felix looked away. "I wouldn't be that foolish." He paused, foot shifting as if about to turn around, but instead he looked at Dedue again. "Why aren't you ever angry with idiots like that one? Why won't you defend yourself?" 

Dedue looked back down at his armor. "I can understand why they would hate me -" 

"Bullshit."

Continuing his polishing, Dedue did not look up. "Why does your anger not exhaust you?"

Felix reacted predictably, by getting defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

How could he explain it? He dipped his polishing cloth into a narrow crevice. "My anger… it is like a fire that can never go out. I cannot let it. I keep it small and tend it carefully, so that I do not run out of fuel."

"Is there a point to this?"

"I am… not accustomed to metaphor." Dedue preferred a more straightforward approach in his speech, but when it came to emotions he had a hard time getting them across with words. "How much wood would it take to have a bonfire every time one of Faerghus said something? I could burn an entire forest's worth of logs and never have enough. It is better to keep the fire down. Then, when I need to stoke the fire higher, I have something to feed it with."

Dedue put aside his polish. Felix was oddly quiet. 

He looked up. When he met his gaze, Felix turned his eyes away. "Hmph. Fine. I suppose that I can understand."

Dedue did not think he did, but only because he would never be able to understand. 

Dimitri had started to return, and when Felix spotted him he slipped away without another word. 

His Highness followed the movement with his eye. "Was he being rude again?" 

"No," said Dedue, "He did not call you by _that_ name once."

"I had meant being rude to you," said Dimitri, with some exasperation.

Dedue shook his head and got up, donning his armor once more. "He was not."

Dimitri watched him, eyes lingering on his movements. "You did not have to come. We are not at the Emperor's door yet."

"If you fight, I fight."

"I only try to protect you because I do not want to see you die for me." Dimitri's gaze was very similar to the one the ghost wore in Dedue's dreams. 

And if those dreams told Dedue anything, it was that he did not wish to see Dimitri die again. He would protect the one who still lived. Even if Byleth had that strange power, they had said themselves that it did not always work. And even if it did, would he have two Dimitris in his head, haunting him? No, he would make sure that Dimitri would survive on his own, without relying on unstable miracles. 

His look to Dimitri was firm. "Then do not put yourself in danger."

* * *

Claude did not place Dimitri and Dedue with the rest for his plan to get in Fort Merceus, claiming that no disguises would mask the pair as imperial soldiers. Instead he suggested that they join some of their other allies, as they might be more hidden among them. He was very mysterious about who these allies were, and for a moment Dimitri had thought this was a trap. Were they to be bait? 

What he had been told, or rather, strongly suggested to do in lieu of an order, was wait and meet with a man named Nader who would join behind them. When they finally met the man, Nader laughed long and hard after Dimitri introduced himself. 

"A Princeling? Kiddo's making me babysit royalty now? As if I haven't had enough of that!" 

"When you see how he fights, you will know it is not babysitting," said Dedue, offended on Dimitri's behalf.

It took Dimitri a second to realize who this man and his troops were, eying their clothes. "You're Nader the Undefeated, are you not? Claude allied himself with Almyrans?"

Almyra boarded with the Alliance, not the Kingdom. Once they may have fought before the Alliance had split off, but that was long before anyone's time. Dimitri had no quarrel with them. But it was surprising that Claude, leader of the Alliance and a von Riegan, would be so bold. But then, maybe his speeches about harmony with those outside Fodlan were not just empty air.

"That's right, Princeling. Let's just say I owed a favor to the kiddo - " he paused, made a face, then corrected himself, "to Claude. But don't think too hard about it, okay?"

"Ah," said Dedue so softly Dimitri only just heard him. When Dimitri looked at him, though, he simply shook his head. 

Was Dedue keeping secrets from him? He had mixed feelings about that. He couldn't say he appreciated the idea, but he did want Dedue to have a life outside of himself. He would respect it and not pry. 

Nader was brazen and bold and ran his part in the plan through for them. Claude's plan was clever, Dimitri thought. He was good at that kind of thing. Nader was more straightforward, but he had the strength to back it up. When the battle got underway, they were good to have by their side. Dimitri supposed it was none of his concern how Claude had got them to agree to help. 

Claude eventually joined them as well, his wyvern and bow giving him flexibility to go anywhere he wanted on the battlefield, while Dimitri preferred to bulldoze through it, cutting any enemy down in his path. Dedue was always by him, making sure that he was always covered from at least one angle.

They cut directly to the Death Knight. _Her_ tool, her weapon. When he saw him he did not think, he charged. He forgot that he had been trying to keep pace with the slower Dedue. 

"Your Highness!" 

Dimitri dodged the troops between him and his enemy, though the Almyrans, swift and final, quickly shifted their own tactics to cover him. He barely acknowledged this. 

He wasn't the only one fighting their way to the Death Knight either, as he only just noticed Felix coming from the other direction, Mercedes trying to keep up but prevented from keeping up by some soldiers. 

Dimitri got there first. Leaping forward, he took an overhead swing at the Death Knight, who blocked with his scythe, their blades impacting with a clang.

That grating voice came distorted through that skeletal mask. "Have they sent someone worth fighting?"

Dimitri didn't answer, stabbing with his lance, which the Death Knight dodged easily, in his horse. Soon Felix arrived, and they had him pincered. 

"Two on one?" The Death Knight was unruffled. "I hope that actually becomes a challenge. I was getting bored."

Slicing with his scythe widely and with enough force to cut them in two, the Death Knight went on the offensive. Felix rolled out of the way. Dimitri tried to block the hit with his lance and the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. 

But the Death Knight wasn't alone, either, and his troops that weren't fighting Almyrans or the Alliance had gotten over their shock and started to approach. Dimitri ignored them, focused on the fight with his opponent. 

Felix glanced between them and the Death Knight and then Dimitri. "Dammit, _fine_ , I'll hold them off. And here I was looking forward to this."

Dimitri didn't register that, taking another stab at the enemy and missing his chest by a breath.

With a roar, Dedue arrived, barreling into the Death Knight and grabbing one of his legs to try to pull him from his horse. The Death Knight jumped rather than lose his balance and kicked Dedue away on his way down, rolling with clattering armor until he took to his feet. 

Dimitri faced him, but Dedue pulled him back. 

"You did not wait for me, Your Highness."

"Imagine that," drawled Felix nearby, fighting off Imperial reinforcements. They ignored him. 

Dimitri couldn't remember the last time Dedue's voice was as far from calm and patient as he could get. "I will kill this dastard myself."

"You will get yourself killed again!" 

Dimitri opened his mouth. Dedue was not one for exaggeration or falsehood. He had known that Dimitri had not died five years ago - what did he mean by 'again'? But he did not have time to ask, the Death Knight was coming. 

"You'll both get yourselves killed if you stay here," said the Death Knight, sweeping with his scythe and making them both leap back. 

Dedue raised armored gauntlets as Dimitri sliced at the knight. "Not if we kill you."

"No." The Death Knight sounded oddly amused. "Even if you kill me, this Fort is to be a tomb. Its ruins will be your burial place."

"He's trying to distract you," said Felix, "Just finish it and help me out here!" 

He was a bit outnumbered, but it was Mercedes who came to his aid, blasting one of Felix's opponents with a burst of magic. "I'll help you!"

The Death Knight's attention focused on her. "You should not be here -" 

Dedue leapt forward while he was turned away from him to get close to punch him with iron-clad knuckles and managed to hit him twice before the Death Knight retaliated with not his weapon but a very decisive headbutt, the sound of which was a terrifying crunch. 

Dedue fell unconscious.

"No!" Dimitri had to take care of the Death Knight immediately, before he could kill the now defenseless Dedue. That thought overpowered everything. He moved without thinking. 

He could just hear Mercedes cry, "Dimitri!" 

It was too late. He grabbed one of the Death Knight's horns, wrenched the helmet off his head and within moments of looking into oddly familiar pale blue eyes and soft blond hair, took his head off as well.

* * *

Dedue was laid flat on the ground. Dimitri was kneeling by his side, looking over him. 

Dedue took one look at him and knew: this was the ghost. It wasn't just the hair, it was that look he gave him, that telltale sorrow mixed with a strange hunger. This was a dream. Yet unlike most, there was little else to indicate that it was a dream. The scene was unchanged from the moment he fell, frozen except for him. Dimitri was there, frozen in time, and Dimitri was also there, gently shaking his shoulder. 

"Please, Dedue, wake up, my friend," said the ghost, "You must not stay here. Wake up."

Often in dreams he found he could wake up by going to sleep, but as Dedue stayed lying down his eyelids refused to close. "I… cannot."

Dimitri slid from his crouch to lay down next to him. "Sometimes I wish you would sleep forever. I would have you stay here with me. We could do anything your mind can imagine, I would do anything you wish, if you did not leave me to return to the waking world. But I know I cannot ask you for this. Now least of all."

The idea of staying forever with this Dimitri and leaving the war behind was distressing, and tempting. Whatever his feelings were on their previous conversation, this was still Dimitri. "I do not wish to abandon you." 

"Abandon me? Or abandon him?" 

Dedue could not conceive of saying anything other than, "Both of you." 

"Then wake up, weakling." The Death Knight interrupted them, moving even though the rest of the scene stayed frozen. "You'll all die if you stay. Wake up." He crouched down by Dedue's head and those eyes burned into his. "Tell her to leave."

* * *

Dedue sat up, adrenaline coursing through him. Everything the Death Knight had said, dreaming or not, rattled in his mind. Dimitri, the living one, was holding off enemies. Mercedes knelt beside Dedue, a soft glow fading from her hand that let him know she had just healed him. Her eyes were filled with thick clouds of tears, although none fell. 

"Mercedes…" Dedue wished to comfort her, though he was not sure exactly why he needed to, but he did not have time. He got to his feet as fast as he could. 

He looked round to his Prince. "Your Highness, we all must evacuate."

"What? What do you mean?" 

"It is a trap. This Fort is to be sacrificed with us in it."

Dimitri looked around at him. "A tomb -" He did not question Dedue, immediately looking for Claude nearby. Things happened very quickly. Soon the order was given, and they fled. 

Within seconds of leaving the Fort it was _gone_. The slowest ones were thrown from their feet by the force of the blast. 

Dedue had only just spotted those strange weapons, like giant arrowheads, before they hit the Fort. It chilled him to the bone. If he had not woken up, then they might all be dead. There was something going on that was far bigger than any of them realized. Was this Edelgard's doing? 

The officers gathered, questions arising, and Dimitri and Dedue joined them but silently. Nader made his hasty leave, nodding at Dimitri before he left and while the others asked questions about who he was and what those javelins of light were, it was decided to retreat further. 

After more distance, though, they stopped again to rest. But Dimitri - something was wrong with His Highness. His remaining eye was wide, his shoulders were hunched. Dedue hadn't fully comprehended how much Dimitri had changed in the past few weeks, to see him so reverted to how he was before returning to the Monastery. Even the ghost in his dreams had become far less severe. But this… the wild look on his face, the barely contained rage - and when Dedue put his hand on the Prince's shoulder it was slapped away. 

But then Dimitri paused, and looked horrified at what he had done, and clutched his face. "I am… I apologize, Dedue. Leave me a moment to compose myself."

Dedue tried not to be hurt by this. But he bowed and left. The Prince was surrounded by allies. He would be safe for the moment. 

In the meantime, Dedue sought out Claude, who was speaking to some of the others. When Claude spotted him, he gestured him over. "- See? This is exactly what I'm talking about - Dedue isn't from Fodlan either. You wouldn't have met him or Petra anywhere else -" But Claude saw the look in his face and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, is something wrong?" 

Dedue considered asking his help with Dimitri, but what could Claude do? It was the same problem there ever was. "It is nothing." 

Claude watched him for a second. "Is it what happened to Fort Merceus? That was pretty disturbing to all of us."

Lorenz, who rarely concerned himself with Dedue and vice versa, now looked at him with cautious eyes. "You were the one to save us from the Fort, were you not? How did you know about those vile weapons?" 

All eyes turned to him now. Judith's face matched Lorenz's. The others there were wide eyed. Were they going to assume he was untrustworthy because he was from Duscur? But Claude, at least, looked at him more expectantly than suspiciously. 

Dedue took a breath. "I did not. The Death Knight implied it was a trap, and I chose to take that seriously. I appreciate you did the same for me."

Hilda piped up then. "Well, I for one am sure glad you figured it out!" She smiled at him. "You saved all of our hides, thanks!" 

Lorenz's expression shifted to gratitude. "Yes, the situation would be most dire if you had not been so quick-thinking."

"That's one way of saying 'we'd all be dead'," said Claude. 

The Professor simply put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. "Thank you, Dedue."

Suddenly, Dedue was overwhelmed by appreciation, and he had no idea how to handle it. "I only did what was necessary."

But he was too late; there was no way to stop the tide of friendliness that faced him. He had no idea how to handle it, but he tried.

* * *

She had done it. Edelgard had destroyed Fort Merceus. Dimitri knew this had to have been what happened. So many more could have joined the dead. He had to kill her, crush her, wipe her out before she could hurt anyone else. 

That thought surprised him. That was not an impulse driven by the need for revenge for the dead, or his more recent exception for Dedue, but the need to protect the living, all of them. He clung to that like jetsam in the storm of his mind to keep his head above water. 

On the subject of Dedue, however, he had once again almost lost him. And he had killed again to save him. His hands shook. He had hated the Death Knight, but there was something about Mercedes's face when he had looked up into her eyes that would haunt him forever. There were always the living left behind to mourn the dead.

He should talk to her, but what could he possibly say? He did not know what he had done. But he did know one thing - she had saved Dedue regardless, and he should thank her for that. 

He sought her out, and found Annette by her side, arm wrapped around her best friend's shoulder as it was wracked with sobs. Dimitri stopped in his tracks. He could not intrude upon this moment of grief.

He turned away, and within moments in his path was Linhardt and a most unexpected Caspar. Hadn't he been with the Empire?

Linhardt stepped between them calmly. "He's on our side now. Please don't kill him, I actually had to exert myself to arrange it and I'd hate for my efforts to be wasted."

Dimitri, who did not give one singular thought to Caspar at any given moment, did not care. "Very well."

"I could have taken him," said Caspar in a stage whisper to Linhardt. 

"No, you really couldn't," said Linhardt in a normal tone of voice, sounding more tired than usual. He focused back on Dimitri. "But there is the small manner of his bedding. Since we're returning to the Monastery, he'll need it back."

That was right. The last time Dedue had been injured, Dimitri had taken bedding from another room. He had forgotten that was Caspar's. That had only lasted a couple of nights, and Dedue had not been injured so badly this time, so there was no need for him to continue to keep it. "Of course." The other implication of those words sank in. "We are returning to the Monastery?" 

"We can't very well stick around, can we?" said Linhardt with a yawn. 

Dimitri was not sure if the Monastery would be any safer from those _things_ , but then, if Edelgard had such weapons, it did not make sense not to use them on the place. Was something protecting the Monastery? 

Truthfully, he longed to return. But just as much, he wanted to press on, to go on to Enbarr and finally end this. He could. He could take Dedue and leave. 

He wandered away from Linhardt and Caspar, not realizing that he had not even attempted to finish the conversation, and looked for his friend. 

When he found him, Dedue was smiling, surrounded by many of the others. Dimitri watched him, soaking in the sight. 

Back to the Monastery, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I killed a character early (it wasn't personal, Jeritza, I promise) and saved a character who really should have died. I had to review the Fort Merceus mission to write this chapter and ended up starting to write a one-shot caspardt fic that will be technically compatible with this fic but absolutely unnecessary to read. For this one, please just let me be able to use Caspar for something. 
> 
> ONE LAST NOTE! Here's a nice thing: please check out [this wonderful fanart](https://twitter.com/fireemblazem/status/1221304371314475008) that firemblazem did from chapter three! It's so good, I hope you all love it as much as I did!


	6. To Sleep Perchance to Dreamitri

Dedue was afraid to sleep. He offered to assist Dimitri with returning Caspar's bedding, but Caspar insisted on helping and Dimitri said that would be sufficient. He probably meant that Dedue should rest but as he gave no order that sentiment went unheeded. Dedue knew going to bed would be best, but if he slept he would dream, and if he dreamed… well, after the last couple of dreams he was not ready. Not yet. 

He checked on the greenhouse but there was little to be done. The greenhouse keeper had taken good care of the plants in his absence, and many of the ones from Duscur needed infrequent care. Anything else needed better light to work. He could go to the kitchens, but what would he make? He was not hungry, nor did he need the practice. He could go train, but doing so after dark was dangerous. 

He went to the library. Maybe there would be a volume on ghosts he could find that would illuminate some way of resolving the situation.

Would the ghost be feeling what he felt now? Would he know of his reluctance to see him again? Was avoiding sleep leaving that Dimitri alone and lonely? No, he wasn't real, he was some strange way Dedue's mind had of dealing with the memory of watching His Highness die. That was why the dream kept giving him attention he would never receive from the real thing. 

But there was something that was bothering him. There were things that he could not explain away so easily. 

Could the ghost feel his doubt as well?

His legs managed to bring him to the library as his mind was elsewhere, and he forcibly brought it to the present. Or tried to. He stared at books on shelves without reading their titles.

Idle hands led to idle thoughts. At least in battle he had not been given a moment to think such things. Back in the Monastery he could think of hardly anything but. 

He heard the soft, light tread of footsteps behind him and he looked around to see Marianne enter the library. Their gazes met. 

"Oh, um," she squirmed a little, breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry, I'll go."

"Why would you go?" It was not as if the library was a one-occupant place. 

"Um…" She hesitated, blinking like a doe. "I'm not bothering you, am I?" 

He shook his head. "No. If _my_ presence unnerves you, I may go."

"Oh, no! You're not bothering me." She rubbed an arm, glancing at him. "Actually, I'm only here because I couldn't sleep. So, um…"

"That is why I am here as well." He tried to keep his voice gentle. He knew he could be frightening and did not wish to scare her off needlessly.

"Oh," she said, wide eyed. "Well, if you don't mind…"

She cautiously browsed books on the other side of the library for a while. Time passed in silence, with only the sound of a volume being taken off the shelves, flipped through, and replaced, and the whisper of clothing as they each moved to another shelf to peruse.

Nothing Dedue found was of use, Marianne never seemed to find anything, and eventually the two of them met up in the middle again. He understood why he was having trouble finding the right books; ghosts were not a topic that came up very much in Garreg Mach's collection. But he wondered why _she_ was having trouble. His Highness liked her, so he supposed he should make an attempt to help her. 

"Do you need assistance finding anything?" 

"What?" She seemed startled when he spoke. "Oh, no, I just… I'm not looking for anything in particular…"

"I see." He was not sure what else he could say to that.

She fidgeted with her fingers, watching him. "Um. If it isn't bothersome to ask you, how is Dimitri?" 

"His Highness is…" Dedue trailed off. Saying he was well would be a lie, saying he was fine was inaccurate. "Calm, now."

That was true, at least; on the way back to the Monastery his anger had settled.

Marianne looked down, a small frown on her face. "I see. I saw him after the battle. I was… worried." She rubbed one hand's knuckles with the other's thumb. "He's been doing so much better recently… I, um. I've been trying to do better too, so it was… nice. Like there was… hope for the both of us." She looked up at him, her eyes widened. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble."

Dedue watched her, and there was a familiar echo in what he saw. He did not know her that well and did not want to be presumptuous, but he did think she cared for the Prince. "As long as there are those around him like you, he does not have to struggle alone."

"That's - - um, you don't need to..." She didn't seem to know what to do with her eyes or her hands, but despite being flustered there was a small smile on her face. "I… I hope so. I hope he can be happy, eventually. Then maybe…" She fell quiet. 

There was another echo in that as well. To Dedue, Marianne felt like looking into a smaller, more shy mirror. Maybe that was why he found himself asking, "Do you love him?" 

Her eyes widened and unlike before, she did not fidget, instead going still like a rabbit about to run. Her eyes flickered to the corners, thinking. She relaxed, shaking her head. "No - maybe, but I think there's someone else I, um, might." She smiled softly. "I'm bad at that kind of thing." 

"As am I," admitted Dedue. It was the least he could do after asking such an impertinent question, to open up even just a little. It was still embarrassing. 

Marianne looked into his face, searching his eyes for something. Her expression softened. "For me, I always felt like I didn't deserve to be loved."

He nodded, understanding. "There are so many that hate and despise me, I did not want anyone else to share that burden by association." 

"Because you're from Duscur…?" She played with the lace on the front of her dress. "I don't really know much about what happened, I'm sorry. But you're so kind, it seems unfair that people would dislike you just because of where you are from."

Faced with it, he realized he did not feel like having that conversation at the moment. "There are other reasons why I have trouble as well. But… as for you, I do not think you are unworthy of love."

She went a bit red at that. "No I'm - ah, never mind. Thank you."

They both went quiet. 

"I don't think I can be of any help," Marianne eventually said, so quietly and nervously that Dedue could barely hear her, "but… if there is someone you love, I hope things work out for you, at least."

He considered it for a moment, wanting to reject the idea outright - but why? What purpose would that serve? "Thank you. Perhaps it will be better, once the war is over."

"Goddess bless, yes. I hope it ends quickly."

* * *

Dedue did not dream, as he did not sleep.

* * *

The dining hall was often crowded in the morning, and that day was no exception, with few free seats and a hungry army to feed. It was loud so trying to make out any conversation with someone not immediately next or across from you was virtually impossible.

Claude put his plate down on the table across from Ignatz and looked at him incredulously. "Are you seriously drawing your meal while it gets cold?"

Ignatz looked up from his sketchbook, pushing up his glasses with the hand not holding the thin stick of charcoal. "Well, um, I can't exactly draw it _after_ I'm eating it…" 

"Okay," said Claude, amused, "But why are you drawing your breakfast at all?" 

"It's just been arranged so nicely…"

"And I'm sure your stomach can arrange it nicely too."

"I'm almost finished." Ignatz looked back at his drawing. 

Caspar, bright and energetic as a jackrabbit, arrived and plopped down in the empty space beside the artist. "Hey, what're you drawing?" 

Ignatz sighed. "Fine, I'll eat it, just give me a moment."

Caspar looked confused. "What, the drawing?"

Claude gave a chuckle. "His breakfast, before it gets cold."

"Oh, right," said Caspar, "Eh, if you eat it fast enough it won't matter!" 

Claude watched his newest recruit. Caspar was another mouth to feed, and judging by how he inhaled his food, demonstrating his own statement, quite the mouth to feed indeed. "Ignatz, look, Caspar's going to finish before you even started." 

"I get your point, stop teasing me." Ignatz set aside his sketchbook to eat and it was promptly picked up by Caspar. "Hey!" 

"Oh these are nice!" Caspar flipped through the pages quickly. "Hey, were you the one who drew the picture of Dedue in Dimitri's room?" 

Claude put his elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his hand. "You were in Dimitri's room?" 

"Last night," said Caspar, as if that was perfectly normal and not something that would undoubtedly drive half their Faerghus recruits mad with jealousy, "I saw this drawing of Dedue on his desk. I remember 'cause I asked him if he wouldn't rather have a picture of Dedue doing something awesome like smashing enemies with an axe instead of gardening and he told me to please shut up and take my stuff already." Caspar looked at Ignatz. "The drawing _was_ nice though."

"That does sound like one of the drawings I gave him." Ignatz looked at Caspar askance. "Thank you."

Claude had several questions he wanted to ask, but he was preempted by Caspar who blinked at Ignatz. "You gave him more? I wish I could've seen those."

"What?" Ignatz looked confused. "No, I gave him a page from my sketchbook - there were two drawings on it. One of Dimitri in the cathedral, one of Dedue."

"That's weird," said Caspar, "I just saw the one. No cathedral in sight."

"The plot thickens," murmured Claude inaudibly through a piece of toast, listening intently for bits of gossip like a sparrow snatching up bread crumbs. 

"How big was the paper?" asked Ignatz, and when Caspar gestured with his hands to demonstrate (his mouth being full), Ignatz said, "Oh, he must have torn the page in half." He sounded a bit torn himself. 

"And kept the part with Dedue on it, huh," said Claude, grinning. 

Ignatz looked down at his plate. "Let's not embarrass him…"

"Why would he be embarrassed?" asked Caspar with a nonplussed look on his face. 

"Yeah, Ignatz, why would he be embarrassed?" Claude gave him a wink. "It wasn't a _risqué_ drawing, was it?" 

"It wasn't, I swear!" Ignatz's face was red, but when Claude laughed, he pushed up his glasses and said, "I _told_ you not to tease me."

Claude took another bite of his toast, leaning his head on his hand. "Could be our lost, beastly prince is actually as innocent as Caspar here…" There was a 'but' implied there, of course. 

Caspar paused in the middle of standing up, already done with his meal. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Don't worry about it," said Claude, waving him away with his hand. 

Caspar left, muttering about not being dense, and soon his vacated seat was taken by Hilda. They greeted her, but as she sat down, Ignatz looked at Claude.

"I know what you're probably _thinking_ , but maybe it's better to leave him be. The rumors…"

"Leave who be?" asked Hilda. 

"We're talking about whether or not our gloomy royal guest's sweet on his vassal or not," said Claude, because while Ignatz may have had a point, there was no way he was going to miss the opportunity to gossip with Hilda about it. 

To Claude's surprise she grinned and shook her fork like Manuela used to use that stick of hers while teaching. "Oh, he's definitely sweet on Dedue. You should hear him talk about him!" 

Claude leaned forward eagerly, ignoring Ignatz's sigh. "Do tell."

Hilda shook her head. "I promised I wouldn't repeat at least _one_ of the things he said. I don't think he'd like it if I quoted him."

How disappointing. He slumped. "Then why mention it at all?" 

"Because I've been _dying_ to say something to someone," she said, hand on her chest. "I'm not going to tell you his exact words but…"

Ignatz sighed. "If he wants to keep it secret, shouldn't you leave it there?" 

"Come on," said Claude, eying him now, "The three of us are going to keep it to ourselves - isn't that right, Hilda?" He said that last bit in a tone that was serious. He was not sure if she could see the problem he was aware of; Ignatz was probably thinking about being discrete for its own sake but _might_ have spotted it. Hilda was shortsighted regarding certain things and probably didn't. But there was an elephant being ignored that Claude could see so clearly. 

Hilda nodded, cheek in her hand. " _Fine_ , I'll just have to come to one of you two if I get any juicy new tidbits."

"See?" said Claude, "We know how to keep things on the down low. Now, Ignatz, what I want to know is why _you_ don't seem surprised. "

"I suppose," said Ignatz. He hesitated one last time before he leaned forward, Hilda and Claude leaning in to hear him as he lowered his voice. "Well it's just, about the drawing -" He briefly filled Hilda in on the conversation with Caspar she had missed. "When I first showed him that page, I was watching him look. I… I like seeing how people react." He looked a bit ashamed of that. 

"Well of course," said Hilda, brushing that aside. "When you've done something, you should be rewarded by a nice reaction!" 

Claude nodded. "Right. But go on, Ignatz."

Ignatz swallowed some of his food that he had snuck a couple of bites of. "His eyes - oh, sorry, uh, his eye was on the drawing I did of Dedue. And he smiled so fondly… I've never seen someone blush at one of my drawings before. That's when I _had_ to give it to him."

"You softie," said Hilda, bumping his shoulder. She sighed. "It's cute, isn't it? Dimitri should just tell Dedue already."

Claude looked at her. She definitely hadn't thought it through. "I can definitely see why he'd hesitate."

Hilda looked at him, raising her eyebrows. "What do you mean?" 

"Let's imagine what it would be like to be a prince." Claude's face was completely straight. "You're the heir, you're going to be leading the country one day, and everybody is watching you, for better or worse. You have this person by your side, someone from a country that everyone you're supposed to lead _hates_."

Hilda and Ignatz were very quiet. Claude was not sure if that was a good thing or not. 

"The only reason most people tolerate this guy is because _you_ vouch for him. So let's say you throw out a big, dramatic confession, and what's he supposed to do if he doesn't feel the same way? If he turns you down, I'm betting he'll be wondering if suddenly you'll stop vouching for him. Or maybe he'll just say yes to appease you."

Hilda looked affronted. "But Dimitri wouldn't abandon him -" 

Claude interrupted her. "He's from Faerghus, and if there's anything those people get in a state about it's being _chivalrous_. If there's any chance it would be dishonorable or put Dedue in an awkward position, he'll keep it to himself."

"It makes sense," said Ignatz, quietly.

Hilda drooped. "I knew Dedue had it rough but I never thought about it like that."

"Don't get me wrong. I think it would be great if the world was one where it wouldn't be an issue, but…" Claude shrugged. He had not made that world yet. "And on top of that, he's going to be a king. That makes any relationship complicated."

"That's sad." Hilda plopped her chin on her hand. "I've been thinking everybody would be happier if he doesn't become king in case he, you know, _loses it again_ , but maybe he'd be happier if he didn't, too."

Now that was food for thought. Claude finished his meal and wandered out of the dining hall, resting his hands behind his head. The best thing he had managed to accomplish with the situation with the Kingdom's prince was getting on Dedue's good side, especially since he was now pretty sure the man was the one keeping the Prince around. It was better having the two of them as allies rather than enemies. And he liked them, honestly.

When this was all over, someone would have to step up and rule Fodlan. At first Claude had a plan for that, but when they rescued the Prince and Dimitri actually seemed to start coming to his senses he had thought about reconsidering. But maybe he should stick to his original plan after all. Hilda had a point; even if Dimitri was better than he was at Gronder, Claude wasn't sure if Dimitri was rehabilitated enough to be King of Faerghus let alone the continent. It wasn't like the Prince had taken any steps to reclaim any power his birthright entitled him to either.

If he survived this war, what place would he have? The only things he seemed to care about anymore was the war and Dedue. And Claude wasn't sure if Dimitri was seeing the full picture with either of them. 

Claude had thought about the option of handing over the Alliance and reuniting it with the Kingdom, but he did not think the roundtable would agree to that when only the smattering of loyal Faerghus soldiers and former classmates showed Prince Dimitri any loyalty. He just hadn't managed to take a leadership role at all, letting Claude and Byleth command those soldiers who had flocked to him. With the Kingdom in shambles and Fhirdiad under imperial control, he had no power other than his title.

Maybe being a king wasn't the right role for Dimitri. But then, what was Claude to do?

He wanted to break down the barriers between Fodlan and the outside world, he wanted to bridge gaps and unify people. What would happen if the Prince of Faerghus married a man of Duscur? What kind of message would that send? Would that further his goals more than trying to get an unstable man to rule a continent? 

They were headed to Enbarr next. Hopefully, if everything went according to plan, that would be the end of the war. Claude had little time left to speculate.

* * *

Mercedes prayed. 

She pressed her hands together, fingers folded so tightly that she could distract herself from crying by the dull pain in her knuckles. 

She prayed that Emile was with the Goddess. She prayed he was not plagued by the spectre he had become. She prayed that he was at peace. And she prayed that she could forgive Dimitri. 

She was not angry. Sometimes it felt like she was broken and could not feel anger. She knew that wasn't true, she remembered so many times she did, but she felt she should be angry now. She was not. There was no one to rage against. The tragedy of it all was that she could not conceive of what any of them could have done to prevent that outcome. It all happened so fast. 

She heard Dimitri's footsteps before she looked. She heard Dedue's as well, heavy behind him, always behind him, and she remembered that Dedue would probably not be alive if things had turned out differently. She was not so sure if she appreciated that line of thought either, as if it were trading one for the other when she would rather have both of them alive and well. 

But that was war. 

Mercedes turned around. "Your Highness." She took a breath, raised her gaze and looked into his eye.

His brow was furrowed. "Mercedes."

She glanced over to Dedue who gave her a nod. She gave him a smile.

None of them spoke for a moment, though it was clear the Prince wanted to. His face twitched. Mercedes wondered if he was trying to find the right words to ask. 

She decided to be merciful and preempt him. "They called him the Death Knight, and sometimes Jeritza, but when I knew him I called him my baby brother." Her voice wavered. 

She saw the look of shock pass over his face. "Mercedes, I - -" 

How silly, for her eyes to be watering now. "My little baby brother, Emile."

"I'm so deeply sorry." It had been a long time since Mercedes had heard Dimitri speak without that gruff edge, with that sincere earnestness even if it was now edged with guilt and heartbreak. 

Maybe it would have been better not to tell him, but she did not think she would have been able to look at him again if she hadn't. Goddess forgive her, but a part of her wanted him to know exactly what he had done. Not to rub his face in it, but so she could know that he knew. 

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I don't know what happened to him that made him that way, but if I had been a better sister, if we had not left him behind -" 

Dimitri lifted a hand, his fingers flexing for a moment, but he let it drop to his side. "Hate me if you must. What I have done is unforgivable."

Did he realize what he was doing? Letting his self-hate keep him from being there for her? She wished she could resent him for it, but in a strange way it was easier for her to comfort than be comforted. "No, don't you see? If I had joined Edelgard instead of Claude, and if he had killed you - I wonder if I would be having this conversation with him?" 

She wished that those exposed to such violence would not soak it into their veins. She brushed aside some of Dimitri's blond hair as she laid a palm on his cheek. His pale blue eye widened at the touch but he did not flinch away. 

"Oh Dimitri, it's not for you to decide what is forgivable or not. If he had killed you or Dedue, I would have grieved just as much."

His eye looked between hers. "You would grieve for me?" That she would grieve for Dedue seemed to be something he accepted readily, but towards himself not as much. "But I have been nothing short of a brute to you. I have been… appalling."

"You're not being a brute right now," she pointed out. "You're hurting."

He pulled her hand away from his face. "Not as much as you."

Dedue, who had remained silent until this point, spoke. "It is not a competition."

Dimitri glanced towards him, flustered. "That's not what I -" He stopped. "No, you are right, of course. I - I am sorry, Mercedes. I came to check on you and this is how I act." 

She raised her eyebrows. He had changed so much since he had first arrived. She remembered how he wouldn't speak to her at the Monastery gates, barely tolerating the healing Marianne was doing on him after being let in. Even through her grief, she was glad that one of her friends came back from the brink. "I forgive you, Dimitri."

He looked away. "If I had known that he was your family I -" 

"Done what? Let him kill Dedue? You wouldn't have done that." She was merciless in her kindness, though when Dedue looked down, she shook her head at him. "I don't blame you either."

"I could have spoken to him, reached out," Dimitri said, insistent and earnest, and then he paused, brows knitting. "Or at least given you time to say goodbye."

"Maybe," said Mercedes, heart breaking. She would have liked to. She wished she could have. "But I forgive you anyway."

"We did not have time for such things," said Dedue gently, "In the end."

All three of them fell silent. What happened to Fort Merceus weighed heavily on all of them.

"I will leave you now," said Dimitri, "But if there's anything at all you require…" 

Yes, thought Mercedes, he had begun to heal. What a bittersweet flavor. But she chose to focus on the sweet. "Thank you, Dimitri."

He turned and left, footsteps heavy. To Mercedes' surprise, Dedue remained. There seemed to be something he was struggling with. "Dedue?" 

He met her eyes. "You have my condolences."

"Thank you, Dedue." Still he remained, and after a moment of waiting, she prompted him, "What is it?" 

Dedue was not one for nervous tics. He squared his shoulders and breathed through his nose. "Perhaps I should not tell you this, but I believe… for just a moment I saw your brother's ghost. It was he who bade me to leave Fort Merceus." 

Mercedes knew Dedue. He was kind, gentle, and was not inclined to joke. He would not say such a thing out of cruelty or malice or a sick sense of humor. But it was a lot to take in. "You saw Emile?"

Dedue hesitated, then nodded. "I had thought my unconscious mind was piecing together the hints he had dropped and I merely dreamed him."

Mercedes felt distant. She liked ghost stories - but as entertainment. This she did not know how to deal with. "But now?" 

"He said…" Dedue paused before quoting very carefully: "'Tell her to leave.' I did not know who he was referring to until now."

"Oh my." Mercedes pressed a shaking hand to her lips. She believed him. She did not know what that would mean, and she hoped that Emile did not stay a ghost, but as her throat caught, she understood Dedue's meaning. "He wanted to save me."

"I believe so," said Dedue. So softly she could barely feel it, he put a hand on her shoulder. "I do not know if this will comfort you but…"

She wrapped her arms around his middle, her head only reaching his chest as she hugged him. She felt him wrap his arms around her. He did not speak, but she understood. 

He let her cry into his chest for quite some time.

* * *

Late into the evening, long after their visit to Mercedes, Dedue was in the kitchens making Dimitri and himself a late dinner. 

He could tell the toll of not sleeping was catching up to him. His movements were more sluggish, his brain moving through a fog. He hadn't realized how out of it he was until he slipped chopping vegetables and he gained a new cut on his finger. He made a sharp intake of breath. 

Cyril looked up from where he was scrubbing a particularly large soup pot. "Hey, you okay?" 

Dedue examined the wound. It was bleeding but not serious. "It is fine."

Abandoning his pot, Cyril came over. "Lemme see."

"It is of no matter," Dedue said, but when Cyril wouldn't budge, he held out his hand. 

"Oh good," said Cyril, looking at it, "It's not too bad. Hold on, the cooks have been keeping bandages in here since Annette started taking on cooking duties…" Dedue waited as Cyril found the right drawer and came back with a small bandage. "Lady Rhea used to always say not to skimp on healing when there's so many healers around, but it doesn't look bad enough to bother one of 'em."

Dedue let him talk as he put the bandage on, saying little. He did not often deal with Cyril, though it felt sometimes they had a mutual understanding to stay out of each other's way. Not to avoid each other, but because they both had duties they disliked being interrupted from. There was a certain quiet respect they shared, both being in remarkably similar positions.

"It's not like you to make a mistake like that," said Cyril, almost as if he'd heard Dedue's thoughts. "You're pretty steady."

"I did not sleep last night."

"At all?" Cyril squinted at him, his tone somewhere between surprised and scolding. "That's no good. You need to rest to get stuff done."

Dedue's face was impassive but there was a hint of amusement to his voice. "It's surprising to hear that from you, I hardly ever see you take breaks."

Cyril huffed. "Okay, yeah, but I get sleep! Gimme a second…" Turning on his heel, he stuck his head out of the kitchen door and looked around. "Ashe! Perfect, you busy? Can you come here?" 

Dedue realized what Cyril intended far too late. "I am perfectly capable of -"

But before he could finish, Ashe poked his head in. "What's going on, Cyril?" He spotted Dedue and smiled. "Oh! Dedue, you're here too, how are you?" 

"I am well, thank you," said Dedue, feeling embarrassed. 

"He's lying," said Cyril, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "He hasn't gotten sleep and he's cut himself cooking."

"Oh no, not too badly, I hope?" Worry overtook Ashe's face. 

Dedue was getting close to mortified. "No, it is no matter."

"Well here, what dish were you making? I can finish it for you." Ashe was already going to wash his hands. 

Despite his initial protests, Dedue was persuaded to allow Ashe to take over. After all, if he made one mistake who was to say he wouldn't make another? He reluctantly passed on what he was already in the process of making over to Ashe. Then, after hovering a bit too much, he was very politely asked to wait outside the kitchen. 

Ejected and a bit dejected, Dedue stepped out for some evening air and spotted Dimitri on the dock by the pond. He watched him watch the water. His conversation with Mercedes had led Dedue to believe that the Dimitri he dreamed of truly was a ghost. If he really had been given a message by the Death Knight, then it would only make sense. 

The Ghost had not made... _advances_ on him for some time. But Dedue remembered him doing so very vividly. As long as he thought he was just a dream then he could ignore it. But if he was Dimitri, did that mean what he thought it meant? 

_Call him Your Highness. He is your master, not your friend. Don't be presumptuous. To believe otherwise would be inappropriate. To have any other relationship with him would be your failing as a vassal._ Dedue had learned long ago what was expected of him. What kind of behavior was tolerated by those who surrounded the Prince. Those of Faerghus barely let him be as was. 

Dimitri, Prince of Faerghus. The Kingdom of Faerghus, which had laid waste to Duscur, all in the name of their late king, Lambert. Dedue believed in Dimitri, he would die for Dimitri, but loving Dimitri was never the plan. 

What was he allowed to want? 

When he stepped out onto the dock, Dimitri turned to look and frowned immediately. 

"Dedue, I thought you had been cooking, it is most unusual for you to -" He stopped, noticing the bandage on Dedue's hand. Immediately he stepped up to him and grabbed his hand to look at it. "You've hurt yourself!" 

"Not badly," said Dedue, feeling like a small cut on his hand was somehow far more humiliating than any wound he gave in battle. To top it off, his hand pleasantly tingled at the touch. "Ashe is making dinner for the both of us."

"That is kind of him," said Dimitri, looking up at Dedue. He paused for a moment, blue eye on Dedue's face, before he seemed to remember that he was still holding Dedue's hand and let go, looking down again. "Ah, but I am fussing as much as you do, my apologies."

Dedue smiled. "I do not think that is possible."

Dimitri gave a startled laugh and looked back up at him. "Dedue! Is that a joke I just heard?" 

Cheeks feeling a bit warm, Dedue glanced away. "Perhaps."

"I'm glad," said Dimitri. He took a breath and smiled. "I am so glad you are here with me, Dedue. I admit, I did not want to be here but… I am grateful you convinced me to stay."

Dedue could feel his heart pick up the pace, his cheeks definitely feeling warm now. "Your Highness…" 

Something in Dimitri's smile shifted, his eye taking up a haunted quality. "Even if I do not deserve to be here, you do."

Dedue's heart broke. "Do not say such things. I would not be alive to be here if not for you."

"Dedue…" Dimitri shook his head. "I apologize. All it seems I can do today is force my problems on others."

"Mercedes forgives you," said Dedue, "and so do I."

Dimitri closed his eye, taking a deep breath. He took another before he said. "Thank you."

Dedue could tell it had taken willpower for him to say that. "Always."

For a few heartbeats Dimitri just breathed. Opening his eye again, he looked at Dedue with a curious expression on his face. "There was something else I have been meaning to ask you about. At Fort Merceus, when we were fighting -" 

"Dedue! Your Highness!" Ashe interrupted them, calling from up the steps to the dining hall. 

"Ah, never mind," said Dimitri, almost looking grateful for the excuse to leave it there, "We would not wish for Ashe's hard work to get cold."

Guilt roiled in Dedue's belly. He suspected he knew what that was going to be about. Something he had let slip. But the matter had been dropped. He followed Dimitri up the steps into the dining hall, and sat down across from him at a table.

Ashe placed bowls in front of them. The onion gratin soup steamed and wafted its pungent scent towards them. "Please, enjoy."

"Thank you," said Dedue. 

"Thank you, Ashe, you have my gratitude." Dimitri nodded to him.

"Oh!" Ashe looked momentarily flustered. "Really, I was happy to help."

"Yes…" Dimitri said, tapping his spoon against the side of his bowl. "There is something else…"

Dedue watched the Prince, wondering what was on his mind. He recognized the look of shame on his face. 

Ashe paused. "Something else?" 

"It is far too late for me to say this but…" Dimitri met Ashe's eyes squarely. "Thank you for saving my life. If there is anything I can ever do for you, please let me know."

Dedue smiled, tension lifting from his shoulders. 

A blush spread across Ashe's cheeks. "I'm just glad I did. Sorry, yes, you're very welcome. But you don't need to do anything, really." 

Dimitri was insistent. "It would be no trouble at all."

Ashe grinned. "I'm so happy you're back to your old self, Your Highness." He bowed low. 

Dimitri blinked. "'My old self', is that so…" Dedue watched a shadow pass over the Prince's face before he shook it away. "I know you are not eating, Ashe, but would you care to join us?" 

"That sounds really nice, actually."

"Ashe, is Cyril still around?" Dedue asked, remembering. 

"I think so," said Ashe, nodding. 

Dimitri took Dedue's point without being told. "By all means, invite him as well."

As Ashe ducked into the kitchens to see if Cyril would come, Dedue observed Dimitri. "Are you certain this is fine? I know you can find company exhausting."

"Ashe and Cyril are not as exhausting as others, though I do wish Ashe would be less formal" said Dimitri, "While you are never tiring at all."

Ashe returned with a nonplussed Cyril who he had evidently managed to convince to take a break. 

For a little while, at least, things were nice.

* * *

He was in Fhirdiad. Dedue had never liked this city. The people at their best and most friendliest would eye him with suspicion, never taking their eyes off of him especially in shops, sneers and fear on their faces. But no such stares greeted him in this dream as the streets were empty. 

He recognized it as Fhirdiad but it was warped and twisted, the idea of the city rather than a replica. He walked through the empty streets, aware he was in a dream. Normally when that happened he would soon see Dimitri, but he wandered for what seemed like ages without an appearance. 

He did not see the Death Knight either; but strangely this did not surprise him. Somehow he knew that Dimitri remained but Jeritza was gone. If the ghosts could move on, why did the Ghost Prince stay? And if he knew he was still around, where was he? 

He reached a fountain. The water lapped at the edges. In the center was a statue of Dimitri's late father, but as Dedue's eyes traveled up it he could only get as far as Lambert's shoulders. He was headless. Who had beheaded the King?

Dedue was afraid to speak to his son. That made a thought occur to him: maybe his son was afraid to speak to him. Maybe he did not approach because he did not think Dedue wanted to see him. He never did like to impose.

"Dimitri," he said. 

"Yes, Dedue?" said the ghost. 

He turned his back on the grotesque statue and there he was: Dimitri. His armor was as white and matte as bone, his furs like one of Sreng's northern foxes curled up in a patch of snow, his tattered cape oddly translucent and wispy, and his eyepatch had been replaced by clean white bandages. The only color that remained was his good eye, a slight flush on his cheeks, and the gold of his hair. 

Dimitri looked at himself, holding his hands out and flipping them over, twisting to look at his cloak. He walked up next to Dedue and looked at his own reflection in the water of the fountain. The water was beginning to leak over the edge, staining the stone. 

Touching the now-pale four-pointed star on his chest, Dimitri looked forlorn. "You truly see me as what I am, now."

Dedue's heart sank. "Dimitri… I cannot begin to apologize enough." 

Dimitri shook his head. "None of this was your doing. I was not even sure myself. It is difficult to think clearly in dreams. I am unsure how much of me was me, and how much of me was a dream of me. I know that explanation is hardly sufficient, but… "

Dedue wanted to hug him as he had hugged Mercedes, as he hugged him before, but if he did that he might break. "It is fine."

Dimitri nodded. "I do apologize for my behavior."

"I apologize for mine."

Dimitri smiled even as the water overflowing from the fountain splashed at their feet. 

Dedue did not want to ask the next question, but he felt he must. "Is there something that I can do to let you rest?" 

Dimitri's smile froze, and then twitched at the corners as it vanished. "I am sorry, my friend, I should not be here. I would leave you be if I knew of somewhere else to go."

"That is not what I asked," said Dedue. "You may stay as long as you wish. But surely… if there is some way for you to join with your Goddess, I would help you."

"I don't wish to be with the Goddess, I want to be with you." Almost as soon as he said that, he covered his eye with his hand. "No, that is selfish."

"Dimitri…" The water was now up to his knees. He waded through it to stand in front of the ghost. "Please, I am trying to help you. I am not trying to push you out. "

Dimitri stared at his reflection in the water through his fingers before looking up and lowering his hand. "Have you told him?" 

This threw him. The water rose higher. "What do you mean?"

"Have you told him about me?" 

Dedue frowned. What was he getting at? He knew _who_ he meant at least; there was a certain tone of voice the ghost used when speaking of his living counterpart. "No, I did not want to add his own death to his shoulders."

Dimitri did not look surprised, but there was an odd expression on his face. "If I were him - no, I _am_ him. I would prefer if you were open with me. I would want to know."

Dedue did not speak. The water was up to their chests now. 

"Please, Dedue, before I say something I regret."

* * *

Dedue woke, gasping for air. He was in his bedroom. He was dry. 

The ghost wanted him to tell the Prince about him. Dedue intended to respect that request, but in order to do so he needed someone else. He needed to speak to the Professor.


	7. Yearn Back Time

Felix had just finished an early breakfast when he heard a commotion going on in the Entrance Hall. He debated between seeing what was going on versus not getting involved in something that was a hassle. He had just about decided on the latter when Ingrid found him. 

"Felix, there you are - you should probably come."

"Why?" 

Ingrid hesitated. "Please, just come?" 

Hairs raised on the back of his neck. Without another word he stalked past her, walking swiftly into the entrance hall. 

There were several people in there, Claude, Hilda, Judith, Byleth, as well as a squad of soldiers in Faerghus uniforms, Gilbert and one final familial figure. 

"Father?" Felix's lips were dry. Why was _he_ here?

Lord Rodrigue looked past Claude at his surviving son. "Felix." 

"Yeesh, did the temperature drop a few degrees in here or is it just me?" murmured Hilda. Claude casually elbowed her. 

Lord Rodrigue had wished for Felix to remain loyal to Dimitri, but Felix had run off to join with Claude. That Dimitri later came to the Monastery was a coincidence, and undoubtedly the reason Rodrigue was there. He was certainly not there for his son. Felix had abandoned his family. He never expected to see his father again, least of all at Garreg Mach. 

Byleth put a hand on his shoulder. "Lord Rodrigue brought us supplies and troops."

"Conditionally," said Felix's father. He looked at Felix, indecision in his eyes. "You seem in good health."

Felix lifted his chin. "There's no need to address me. You don't have to force yourself."

Claude cleared his throat. "Well, this is a great family reunion, not awkward at all, but I want to hear more about these so-called conditions."

Judith put a hand on her hip. "He's clearly waiting for the crown prince, boy."

More footsteps as the number of people crowding the Entrance Hall increased by one. "Lord Rodrigue?" Dedue had arrived.

"Ah, Dedue, you have excellent timing." Rodrigue gave him a polite smile. "If you could please let His Highness know that his presence is requested…?" 

Oddly for Dedue, he hesitated, looking to the Professor. When Byleth nodded, that was when he turned around and headed back the way he came. 

"I'll accompany him," said Felix, less because he desired Dedue or Dimitri's company and more because he did not want his father's.

He quickly caught up to Dedue, who looked surprised that he was keeping pace. When he didn't comment, Felix spoke up. "You don't look happy to see my father."

"I do not dislike him," said Dedue, delicately. "He is loyal to His Highness."

"Unlike me, you mean." Felix shrugged. "That's not what I'm getting at. I'd think you would be pleased the Boar's getting more support, and yet you seem subdued."

Dedue stopped walking, a hint of anger flitting across his normally serene face. "Do not call him that."

Felix stopped as well. "Answer my question."

Dedue shook his head. "I have concerns that are… distracting."

Felix raised his eyebrows. "You? Distracted from _his_ affairs?" 

Dedue started walking again, a slightly faster pace. "He is not uninvolved."

There was something going on with Dedue. Something about him seemed off. Felix had noticed it at Fort Merceus, but now that he was keeping an eye out for it, it was clear there was some sort of problem on his mind. The problem was that Dedue wasn't one to explain himself, at least not without pressing.

It was unsettling. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

They walked the rest of the way back to the dorms in an uneasy silence. Dedue knocked on Dimitri's door. 

"Your Highness."

There was a murmur of recognition. 

"Wake up," said Felix, impatient with this already, "My father's here to see you."

There was a pause. "Felix?" 

"Don't make me repeat myself."

Dedue spoke up, far more tactfully. "Lord Rodrigue is in the Entrance Hall. He wishes to speak with you."

There was another pause, then some noises, and soon the door opened and Dimitri slipped out, dressed sans armor. He nodded to Dedue and looked at Felix. "This is a surprise."

"Ah, good, you're lucid."

"Felix." There was a clear warning in Dedue's voice. Felix heard it and ignored it. 

"It is fine, Dedue," said Dimitri, shaking his head. "I have not been in the right mind."

Felix did not feel like hearing an apology or explanation at the moment. "My father is here and asking for _you_."

"Lord Rodrigue… very well. I will go." 

Dimitri started walking. Felix considered staying behind, going to his room and avoiding his father. But he needed to know how this turned out, and so he followed. This meant he was side by side with Dedue, trailing along behind Dimitri. Is this what it would have been like, if Dimitri had been someone worthy of being a leader? 

He eyed Dedue. Did he know that Dimitri had asked Felix to protect him should anything happen to him? He definitely did not know about the letter that Felix still kept in his pocket, for whatever reason he did not want to admit.

Lord Rodrigue's face flooded with relief when he saw Dimitri. Felix shifted from foot to foot, very much aware of the difference in reaction to his own arrival. 

"Your Highness." Lord Rodrigue bowed. "I am filled with joy to see you alive."

The following conversation was tensely political. Dimitri was polite, that mask back on, but he refused to consider Rodrigue and his people under his command. Felix's father was less willing to fight under Claude and the Professor as the other Faerghus recruits. Felix watched him debate Dimitri, in that way his father would without ever outright contradicting the Prince. Damn his misguided loyalty. 

Eventually Claude calmly suggested that they all have time to think about it and perhaps talk about it after they had at least had breakfast. 

As they streamed into the Dining Hall, Felix held back. This was unlikely to actually keep him informed on anything and if he could spend more time away from his father, so much the better. 

To his surprise a second time that day, Dedue didn't immediately follow Dimitri either, stopping Byleth politely. 

"Professor, may I have a word?" 

The Professor nodded and they started off together. Felix watched them, unsure if he was feeling more suspicious than curious. Dedue not staying at Dimitri's elbow was of interest enough and so Felix quietly followed them, trying to keep from being noticed. Still better than having to put up with breakfast with his father and the Boar.

Dedue and the Professor stopped in the gardens and Felix ducked behind a hedge, straining his ears. 

"Professor, I need to tell His Highness about the dreams."

Alright, Felix had no idea what this was supposed to be about. 

" _Need_ to?" The Professor's voice was cautious.

"The last time we spoke, I asked if it was possible that the one who fell in Gronder could be a ghost. I am more certain now that is true."

That statement raised several questions, none of which made any sense. Was Dedue just as mad as his Prince?

"You're sure?" Yet the Professor seemed to be taking it seriously. 

There was a pause. "Yes. But he has asked that I speak to His Highness about him."

"Dimitri's ghost?" 

Felix froze. _Dimitri's_ ghost? That made even less sense. 

"He is still Dimitri, and I cannot refuse his request." Another pause. "You said your ability to turn back time was a secret, but I am unsure how to explain the ghost without divulging it."

Silence. Felix didn't dare try to peer around to see what expressions they had as he would be spotted for sure. His mind was reeling. He could almost grasp what they were talking about but it was as if he was trying to put together a puzzle with just half the pieces. 

Byleth reached a decision. "Make sure he understands the limitations." 

"Thank you, Professor."

"I hope clearing the air brings you some peace."

Then Felix heard footsteps going away, softer than Dedue's. As the Professor left, Dedue said softly, "I am not the one who needs peace."

Felix made several rapid calculations in his head before he stepped out from behind the hedge and faced Dedue. 

"Explain."

Once again Dedue's tightly controlled grip on his anger slipped for just a second. " _Felix_."

"Judge me for eavesdropping all you want," said Felix, keeping steady, "But it's done. What the hell was that all about?" 

Dedue pulled in that flash of anger, his expression becoming a wall. "It does not concern you."

"Do you really expect me to walk away from this?"

Dedue said nothing, not budging. 

"Back at Fort Merceus…" It had been something Felix had been wondering about, but until then he didn't have a clue as to what it meant. "You told _him_ that he'd get himself killed again."

Dedue's shoulders stiffened. "You heard that?" 

"I was right there, remember?" 

Dedue was silent once more, expression unreadable. Then he spoke. He explained the Professor's ability to turn back time,  
and how Dedue found out by this supposed ghost. Dedue also made sure to tell him quite firmly to keep it to himself. 

Felix did not believe in Dedue's ghost any more than he believed in Dimitri's dead. But the parts about the Professor had been confirmed by what Byleth had said. Felix did not know how to feel about Byleth saving Dimitri's life; he resented his gratitude, but he did not doubt that happened. 

Dimitri had died.

"I think understand." He thought back to how Dedue had been acting. Torn between two masters. He'd probably follow that dream just as loyally as the real thing. Not the most reassuring thought. "I can't believe you bothered to ask the Professor's permission to tell him."

"It was a courtesy. I owe the Professor that much."

"In other words, you would have told him anyway." That sounded more like Dedue. "Fine. I have no reason to pursue this further. And I'm not going to blab about it."

Something in Dedue relaxed. His eyes were kind. "Thank you."

Felix had listened in on a conversation he was not invited to and subsequently demanded an explanation. He did not deserve gratitude for the bare minimum courtesy. And now he had to live with the knowledge that Dimitri had died, whatever that would mean. 

A thought occurred to him. He searched his pockets. There, still crumpled, a bit worse for wear: Dimitri's letter. He retrieved it and held it out to Dedue. 

Dedue took it, brows raised. "What is this?" 

"Dimitri wrote me a letter which told me to pass on a message to you if he died. Since you're telling me he already has, here it is."

Dedue did not unfold the crumpled thing, but stared at Felix, eyes wide. "You called him Dimitri."

Felix opened his mouth, heat rushing to his cheeks. He had not noticed. He quickly turned his head away so Dedue would not see his face. "Shut up. Don't you dare tell him." 

"Why would you give this to me?" 

Felix glanced back at Dedue, who was looking down at the paper in his hands. "I don't want to be obliged to uphold it any longer."

"Thank you, Felix." Dedue did not unfold it, and the expression on his face was unreadable. "Though I am not certain the circumstances are what His Highness had in mind."

Felix threw up his hands. "Read it or don't. The choice is yours. At least it's out of _my_ hands now."

And it was. There was a certain amount of guilt for finding a loophole but the relief eclipsed it. He suspected Dedue would not read it without consulting his Prince first, and Felix did not look forward to the boar's reaction if that happened. But who knew, maybe Dedue would actually read it and they would be disgustingly happy with each other enough to leave Felix alone. 

He didn't believe in Dedue's ghost. The dead were dead. Once you were dead you were gone. And Dimitri acted as if he already had one foot in the grave. Ridiculous. Felix left Dedue without a polite excuse or goodbye to go hide in his room from his father, wondering why he still cared about whether or not the Boar would have something to live for.

* * *

Dedue looked at the ball of paper in his hands, holding it like a newborn kitten and just as unsure what to do with it. 

Eventually he smoothed it out and put it in his own pocket. He would make the decision to read it or not later, for now he needed to find Dimitri. But if His Highness was busy with dealing with Lord Rodrigue, would it be right to interrupt him with his own problems? Dedue's instinct was not to, but it was Dimitri himself who told him to do this. 

When was the proper time to inform someone that you were haunted by their ghost? 

Standing there, indecisive, was where Petra found him. "Dedue!" 

"Petra."

"I am hearing that we are having a new ally…" 

They spoke a bit about Lord Rodrigue, and then Petra surprised him with a few phrases in the language of Duscur ("I have been practicing!") but just as Dedue was starting to want to make his polite leave, as friendly as Petra was, she had one last thing to say. 

"Were you still interested in ghosts and spirits? I have been writing to my grandfather and asking him what he knows."

"You have?" Dedue was surprised she remembered. 

"It seemed to be causing you to be… troubled. If my grandfather can be telling me something that will help a friend, then my heart will be full." She smiled up at him. 

Dedue was speechless. He was still not used to people willing to do things for him, or calling him a friend. 

She tilted her head at his silence. "Dedue?" 

He bowed. "You have my gratitude. Please inform me of his response."

Her smile returned, bright and beaming. "Yes, I will be telling you!" 

"I do not mean to be rude but -" 

"There is something else you are needing to be doing," she guessed, nodding. "We will be talking later."

He bowed again and as he went to enter the Dining Hall to find Dimitri, he was faced again with Lord Rodrigue, who paused and looked up into Dedue's face. 

"Ah, Dedue. I would not want to keep you from your lord any longer, but I was hoping you have a word."

Dedue wanted nothing more than to sigh, but he kept that to himself and no weary air passed his lips. "Of course, Lord Rodrigue."

Lord Rodrigue drew him aside to a corner of the garden. He seemed agitated, which seemed to indicate that Dimitri had not relented. 

"Thank you for taking care of His Highness," said Rodrigue, and though he was sincere, his tone was polite in that way that he was putting an obligation aside first. 

"I need no thanks for doing my duty," said Dedue. 

Lord Rodrigue nodded, as if expecting that answer. Dedue had no doubt he did; Rodrigue had been the one to tell him what a vassal was, long ago when Dedue was still calling His Highness by his name. 

Felix's father very rarely spoke to Dedue. He was not openly hateful, but it wasn't until years later that Dedue found out his eldest son had died in the Tragedy at Duscur. Was his reluctance to speak to him born from that? But he was always the adult who was kindest to Dimitri, so Dedue could not resent his presence. 

Lord Rodrigue had pulled him aside twice before. The first time was to explain that Dedue really should be calling Dimitri "His Highness", what that meant, and eventually telling him stories of the previous King's vassal, Gilbert. He strongly implied that Dedue would be more accepted if he had an acceptable role in Dimitri's life, rather than the strange older orphan hovering around him. 

Now Lord Rodrigue looked serious, face clouded. 

"What is it?" Dedue asked, wishing to get to the point. 

"I will be allying myself with the Professor and the Alliance, but I am not putting myself or my men under their command. I will be working with His Highness."

Dedue noticed that phrasing. Working with meant not working under; Lord Rodrigue was not under Dimitri's command either. "Was that the compromise you reached?"

Lord Rodrigue's mouth twisted in frustration and he glanced away. For how different the two of them were, it was a very Felix-like expression. "I do not understand why he continues to refuse to lead."

"He blames himself for the deaths at Gronder Field," said Dedue simply. It was a guess, admittedly, and it was not something they talked about. But Dimitri cared so much for the dead, and while many had fled and survived, that battle had shattered their army. He had no doubt that it weighed heavily on him. 

But it was also the more diplomatic answer, one that skimmed over His Highness's mental state, and it was clear Lord Rodrigue knew that too. "No commander is unbeatable." He sighed. "This is what Felix doesn't understand - he did not fight to the death, and that is too much for him to bear."

Dedue did not think he was wrong, exactly, but he had a ghost in his head making it clear that death was no less of a burden. He felt cold. "It is better that His Highness survived." 

"No, if course," said Lord Rodrigue hurriedly, "And every one of those soldiers would have been glad to know that their sacrifices were not in vain - ah, but I am digressing. I was hoping you could illuminate me on His Highness's thoughts."

Dedue paused. Lord Rodrigue was loyal to Dimitri and that made them allies, and he harbored no ill will towards him. But what would Dimitri want him to say? 

"It would be most helpful to His Highness if you could relieve him of the burdens of command and allow him to do what he must with no distractions."

Lord Rodrigue watched him for a moment, face unreadable, before nodding. "Of course." The reluctance was still there, but the matter was settled. 

"Is that all? I need to go to him." Dedue was impatient to finally speak to Dimitri. 

A pained look passed over Lord Rodrigue's face a split second before it vanished. "Do you remember our last conversation?" 

"Yes," said Dedue. The second time Lord Rodrigue pulled him aside. 

"Surely you must remember what I said."

"Yes," said Dedue. 

_The love one holds for one's liege must be chaste._ Lord Rodrigue had said many things back then, with many mentions of what was proper and what was impertinent, presumptuous, improper, unallowed. He never put it plainly but the message had been incredibly clear: _don't fall in love with Dimitri._

Dedue at the time had been confused by it, but in retrospect Lord Rodrigue had been far too late. Perhaps if Dimitri had not reached out to save him. Perhaps if Dimitri had not made sure Dedue had a place to live, if he had not taught Dedue the ways of Fodlan. Perhaps if Dedue had not seen His Highness weep for the dead, if he had not seen Dimitri's heart bleed for those who were ostracized and abandoned, if he had not seen his compassion, if Dimitri had not defended him and told him he was not the one who was wrong. Perhaps if Dedue had not seen him when he was kind, when he was gentle, despite the fact that there was something inside of him that wanted to lash out, that violence deep in him that he worked hard to avoid rather than embrace. Perhaps before Dedue had ever seen Dimitri's smile when he said "Dedue!", glad to see him. Maybe then Lord Rodrigue would not have been too late. And if he had been laughably, unfathomably too late _then_ , he was leagues too late for this reminder to do anything but make Dedue feel as though he was always, inevitably going to fail to uphold that advice. 

"I have not forgotten," said Dedue. 

Lord Rodrigue sighed. "Of course you haven't. You've been the picture of a proper knight, if only -" He stopped, shook his head and bowed a little. "I have things to arrange. I believe Dimitri was headed for the cathedral. Please continue to watch over him."

"I will." 

Dedue bowed as well before turning on his heel and heading for the cathedral with such a straightforward determination that when on the way Shamir looked as if to say something to him that she stopped and merely gave a lazy wave.

* * *

Dimitri stood at the altar, staring at his hands. 

The day had felt surreal. He had been avoiding his commitments for so long and no one had been as tenacious about making him face them than Rodrigue. He could barely comprehend the future. He was running, ever running towards killing Edelgard and running from the things he had done. Claude thought about the future. Rodrigue thought about the future. Did the Professor? Did the others? Did Dedue? 

He had been doing so well, until those spears of light flattened his progress as effectively as they had Fort Merceus. Then there would be Enbarr, where he would end it. And there was Rodrigue, in the final days, too little too late. He wanted it to end. He wanted to rest. But Felix's father had stirred something within him, a reminder of who he was. One last remnant of Faerghus, come at last. 

He had a responsibility to the living. He had a responsibility to the dead. It did not feel as though there was enough of him to bridge that gap. 

"Your Highness." 

Dimitri had not even heard him arrive, something not easily accomplished. "Dedue."

He turned, and almost immediately he knew something was wrong. He knew Dedue, and though he seemingly was the essence of calm, the slightest furrow of his brow told Dimitri that there was something on his mind. "Is there a new issue that has arisen?" 

"I would prefer we speak of it privately," said Dedue, glancing around. 

Odd. The Cathedral wasn't empty but it was close, with only a couple of monks out of earshot. But it was so empty that perhaps it would have been easier to be eavesdropped on. Dimitri nodded. "The Goddess Tower?" 

"That will suffice."

They slipped out of the Cathedral, and as they made their way to the privacy of the Goddess Tower, Dimitri eyed Dedue. They had private conversations before, of course, but this felt somewhat anxiety inducing in a way that Dimitri was not used to. Whatever it was, he hoped that he had not upset Dedue. 

The Goddess Tower was empty and dusty, and had none of that charm it once had that night of the ball, five years ago. He remembered going out for some air, seeing the Professor and Claude emerge from it before slipping inside himself. He had danced with so many people that night whose names and faces he realized he was unable to recall. He never did work up the courage to ask Dedue for a dance. 

Wasn't that something, when that was the most worrisome thing to occupy his mind? 

"Your Highness, I do not wish to burden you further. If you would not have more weighing on your shoulders, I will refrain."

Dimitri's heart broke at the idea. Dedue would do anything for him and yet he was so reluctant to allow Dimitri to do the same for him. It was true that there was much that weighed on Dimitri's mind, but he would walk naked through Ailell for Dedue if he was asked. 

"Dedue, please tell me what is on your mind. If there is something you are struggling with, it is never too much for me to bear if it will help you."

Dedue looked into his face and squared his shoulders. "I owe you an apology for taking so long to speak to you, in that case."

That gave Dimitri a horrible sinking feeling in his gut. "Please, tell me."

Dedue took a breath, and though he seemed nervous he was matter-of-fact. "The Professor has an unusual ability -" 

Dedue explained the ability, then the downsides. Dimitri had not known what to expect, but finding out Byleth could turn back time was not within the realm of what he would even consider a possibility. He did not question it, however, because Dedue would not lie to him like this. 

Nodding, Dimitri listened patiently."I see, that is quite a remarkable ability indeed. What I do not understand is why it weighs on you so."

There was a shift in Dedue's expression, one that Dimitri had only ever seen when he spoke of his family. "Your Highness, you died."

Dimitri felt strangely distant, as if this conversation was a dream. "What?" 

"You were killed at Gronder Field. But then the Professor used their ability to turn back time..." 

"And rewrote it." He understood immediately. He remembered being at the mercy of Imperial Soldiers. He closed his eye. "Near the end."

"They got Ashe to intervene."

Dimitri had not forgotten that. It made a warped kind of sense. The seemed he owed the Professor for his life as well. He opened his eye again to look at Dedue. "They told you of this?" 

"No," said Dedue, and to Dimitri's surprise his friend was speaking thickly. "I remember it. I remember watching you die."

Air rushed into Dimitri's lungs at the sudden solution to a mystery that had been plaguing him for days. "When we were fighting the Death Knight, you said..." 

Dedue nodded. "Yes, I did not wish to see you die a second time. I let it slip. But Your Highness, there's more."

More? This was already more than enough for Dedue to have been shouldering all this time, and there was something else? "What else is there?" 

Dedue swallowed, taking a breath. His body language was stiff, something Dimitri recognized when Dedue was awkward speaking with others but rarely with Dimitri himself. He was almost angry, that there had been something like this going on for a while under his nose. But then again, he realized with a start, he had hardly given Dedue an opportunity to, had he? He had locked himself in his room or made himself unapproachable, not feeling like he deserved anyone's time or affection. He remembered Mercedes, mourning, and how he kept saying the wrong thing. His self-loathing was selfish. Though wasn't that also self-loathing?

When Dedue hesitated to continue, Dimitri gently put a hand on his arm. Goddess help him, when was the last time he had touched someone affectionately? For a moment even that gesture seemed more intimate than proper. "I'm sorry, Dedue. I wanted you to be able to relieve yourself of a burden, but know that whether or not you tell me is your choice. If you need more time, or… or even if you decide not to continue, I will accept that." He took a breath, letting go of Dedue's arm. "Please know that what you have already told me is not a burden." As far as Dimitri was concerned, he had lived and that was the path of time that he remembered. It was Dedue who needed him now.

Dedue touched the place where Dimitri's hand had just been a moment before, before seeming to remember himself and let his hands fall. "Your Highness…" He sighed, relaxing a little.

If only Dimitri could hug him, hold him, kiss him - no, he had to keep such thoughts at bay. He was trying to be a good friend, not someone with unwanted attentions. He waited, trying to be as patient with Dedue as Dedue was with him. 

Finally, Dedue spoke. "I have been dreaming of your ghost. The you that died at Gronder Field - when I sleep I see him and speak with him far more vividly than normal dreams."

This, oddly enough, was strangely familiar territory. When Dedue spoke of the Professor turning back time he believed it because he had faith in Dedue, but it was a bit much to wrap his head around. Ghosts, on the other hand, oh did Dimitri know what it was like to be haunted by the dead. 

In fact, he even remembered being haunted by the ghost of Dedue, when they had been separated, before Dedue had found him and together they had secretly recruited an army right under the Empire's nose. He remembered the things that the ghost Dedue had told him. 

"And here I thought I was the only one to hear the voices of the dead," said Dimitri with a bitter smile. "I am sorry, my friend, I'd hope that I would leave you in peace if I could."

The shadow of a sad smile passed over Dedue's face. "Yes, that is what he said as well."

Goosebumps raised on Dimitri's skin despite himself. He wondered what else the ghost had told him? Was he demanding justice, like Dimitri's ghosts? 

"Dedue, what do I - what does my ghost say to you?" 

Something in Dedue's face slammed shut, and Dimitri recognized the barriers go up. Where before Dedue had seemed nervous to speak to Dimitri, now he was closed off. Dimitri quickly added, "Again, you do not need to tell me if you do not wish to."

Dedue shook his head. "It is fine, but there is little to tell."

Dimitri was doubtful, but he did not pry further. "It's fine, Dedue, you have already told me more than enough."

Dedue nodded. "Last time we spoke, he said that you would want to know."

"I would - I mean, I do." 

Dedue looked down. "I apologize for not telling you before. It is only recently that I thought that perhaps your ghost was real and not a dream."

He would hope Dedue could have been open with him regardless, but Dimitri decided that he had said enough. Either Dedue felt comfortable or he didn't. 

As for the matter of whether or not the ghost was real, he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "If that is a concern, why not ask him to tell you something that I would know and he would not?" 

The moment Dimitri said those words aloud, he was suddenly struck by the knowledge of what exactly Dimitri knew that he had not told Dedue. Panic stirred, though he tried calling hide it. "Something small, innocuous, like what I ate before Gronder Field."

"Your Highness, I know what you ate before Gronder Field, I prepared it for you," said Dedue, but he sounded amused. 

Dimitri laughed a little. "Yes, I suppose you did. It was only an example!" 

Dedue was smiling now, and Dimitri tucked the sight of it away in his heart, like always. "I understand what you meant, Your Highness."

"Yes, of course." Dimitri cleared his throat, looking up at Dedue. The room in the tower was not large and Dedue and Dimitri were, and that made it seem even smaller. A hug would be fine, would it not? Between friends? It would not be asking too much of Dedue to allow him to provide some comfort, would it? 

Dedue frowned. "Are you well, Your Highness?" 

A slight flush crept in Dimitri's cheeks. Did he guess his thoughts? "Yes, why would I not be?" 

Dedue looked down. "I only thought that you would be more perturbed by the knowledge of your death."

Yes, that would be a reasonable reaction, wouldn't it? "Dedue, has this been upsetting you?" 

"It is what it is," said Dedue, closing his eyes. 

Dimitri took that for a 'yes'. He inhaled, preparing himself for what he felt he needed to say. "I will not make you watch me die again." The words felt thick and binding in his mouth. Now that he said them, there was no taking them back. 

"I would like if you were to live for your own sake, Your Highness," said Dedue, almost pained, "But thank you."

* * *

This dream took place in the kitchen, though Dedue was uncertain if it was the kitchen in the Dining Hall or the one he used to watch his mother cook in. There was food all around, though Dedue would not be able to name any of the dishes if he tried. 

Dimitri was there, not in his armor but more casual clothes, though they were still bone white. He sat on a counter, watching Dedue cook. "Thank you. I know that was difficult."

"You knew he would react better than I expected."

"Yes," said the ghost, "We are the same person, in the end."

Dedue covered his hands in flour and kneaded dough. "He asked me to ask you something I would not know."

"That he would?" Dimitri slid off the counter, rolling up his sleeves. "Hm." Dimitri took some dough and started kneading it next to Dedue. He was quiet, and for a while they worked in silence.

"I - we gave Edelgard a dagger a long time ago, before her hair was white." Dimitri squeezed his dough between his fingers as it turned into Edelgard's face, distorted and twisted.

Dedue looked at the ghost in surprise. "How long ago was that?" 

"Before I met you." Dimitri stopped, staring at the Edelgard-dough in his hands, before putting it into a bowl, putting a damp towel on top for it to rise. "You are heading to Enbarr next, correct? It has been on my mind, and if it has been on mine, it will be on his."

Dedue checked to see if the dough he was working was just dough, and was relieved when it was. "I see." He suspected the ghost would prefer the living Dimitri to expand on that, given the vague response. 

"Do you miss when we were all studying, Dedue?" Dimitri's eyes didn't leave the bowl he had just covered.

"Yes." It wasn't the happiest time in his life; that was reserved for a time when his sister still smiled and his mother would pull him into her arms and kiss his cheek, and his father would give him the bellows to stoke the fire and tell him stories of the gods when the sound of his hammer did not drown out the words. But the Academy was certainly the happiest since then. This time in the monastery now would not be so bad, if not for the war. 

"So many left our class for Claude's... I wonder if things would have been different if they had stayed. Would I have still died at Gronder, had Felix been by my side?

At the mention of Felix, Dedue thought of the letter, and the moment he did, it appeared in my hands as crumpled as it was when he was first given it. "Dimitri --" Dedue looked up at him, not knowing what he would already know so gave a brief explanation. 

Dimitri frowned. "I do not remember writing it… It must have been after I died."

That made sense. In the dream, Dedue did not think further on the implications of that, instead he held out the paper. "Could you read it? I am unsure if I should." 

"Dedue," said Dimitri with some affection, unfolding the paper, "If you did not read it, you cannot dream it." He held up the page. It was blank. 

"Oh." Dedue felt foolish. 

"If I were to leave a message…" Dimitri trailed off. He sighed, leaning on the kitchen counter, flour drifting off him as if he was making it snow. 

"You do not have to tell me." Dimitri was Dimitri after all, he could probably guess. 

"I think leaving it in Felix's hands was the wrong choice." He sounded more bemused than angry. "I have no doubt as to why he did, however."

The rising bread dough in his bowl burst out, shattering the bowl. Dimitri and Dedue ducked, and there, kneeling behind the counter, Dedue asked, "So I should not read it?"

Dimitri opened his mouth to answer, and Dedue woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but I still appreciate all the support! Thank you for the comments and kudos, as always. I hope you're all doing okay. If you're still around or new, I hope you're still enjoying my very self-indulgent fic.
> 
> On that note, with regards to Lord Rodrigue turning up when he was implied to be missing in this route, inserting backstory between him and Dedue, or all the ghost stuff, [please accept this explanation.](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/276/727/7e7.jpg) Thank you.
> 
> I fixed some minor errors in previous chapters and changed a couple of chapter titles. I apologize for the latter. For bigger errors where I'd have to rewrite whole bits like where I remembered something wrong or got route-specific stuff mixed up, please chalk it up to differences in this AU. I've probably already facepalmed about it, sorry.


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